


All This and Heaven Too

by Princesse Palatine (Petronille)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Brittany - Freeform, Faeries - Freeform, France - Freeform, Gen, Romance, Romangst, Work In Progress, in which scott summers is a douchebag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-04-21 08:17:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14280804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petronille/pseuds/Princesse%20Palatine
Summary: Takes place before and during "Change Your Mind, Change Your Life," by the lovely LostMyMarbles. A terrible transgression forces Logan and Isabelle to leave the X-Men and the home they have known forever. Two years later, as danger looms, they have a choice: let people they care about suffer, or forgive and mend broken alliances so that there is hope for a future.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own "X-Men," "The Avengers," or any other Marvel properties, but all original characters are mine. To be read in conjunction with "Change Your Mind, Change Your Life," by the lovely LostMyMarbles.

Something bad had gone down at Xavier School. Something really bad.

Tony Stark wasn’t one to immerse himself into what seemed to be the petty rivalries that sometimes popped up when dealing with Xavier’s team, but when things came to a head, you could walk into the room and feel the tension there. And there was almost always something between Cyclops, the leader of the X-Men, and Wolverine. A snide comment here, a dirty look there, Cyclops acting like he was hot shit because he was in charge. Summers always tried to hide it, the dickbag that he was, but he was even more of an asshole than Reed Richards was.

But this time, this time, Scott Summers had stepped over the line. From the way the Wolverine was pacing, clenching his fists and muttering under his breath, sometimes out and out snarling, things were going to come to a head. The details were still sketchy; all Stark knew was that it was about Isabelle. And that Scott Summers had something to do with it.

The Wolverine was a still-waters-run-deep kind of guy, the kind of guy who kept his deepest feelings close to the vest. Tony couldn’t blame him, he’d been through some shit.  
But when it came to Isabelle, or Sylphide, as she was known on the field, sometimes the deeper parts of himself would come out.

Tony himself had worked with Isabelle Brignonen on a few occasions, and he liked her enough; twice with the X-Men, and once on her own when they’d had to go to Canada because Magneto had found and overtaken some crazy laboratory where a private security company had been doing experiments on not only mutants, but Fae. Isabelle spoke the language, the old Gaelic dialect that had long died out when the Fae had begun using magic and alchemy to bend and fold time and space to their will, to create enclaves for themselves in these little pockets so that the overzealous Catholic church wouldn’t hunt them down, much as, it was said, the wizard Merlin had done with Avalon long ago. Sometimes, when the veils were thin, people spoke of seeing towers in the sea and hearing bells ringing where the cities of Ys and Lyonnesse had supposedly sunk, but those had been dismissed as fairy tales, until before the Second World War, when the Nazis had begun investigating these claims, and discovering things on their own, things that had gotten to the Allies after the war. And the leftover effects weren’t pretty, not at all.

“Ten minutes before we land,” the Black Widow said levelly, glancing back at the mutant behind her. “You might want to sit down, Wolverine. Even in this jet the landings can be rough.”

Wolverine glowered at her, then his lips thinned as he went to take a seat beside Tony. Captain America leaned forward, his face lined with concern. “You want to talk about it, Wolverine?”

“No.” Wolverine’s tone had an air of finality to it. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Not right now.” But despite seemingly having his feelings under control, he gripped the armrests of his seat tightly. Tony could detect his fingers trembling just a little bit. He was nervous. That was a bad sign. Tony could count the number of times on one hand that he’d seen the Wolverine nervous.

“Avengers, you are cleared to land,” the mellifluous voice of Kurt Wagner, otherwise known as Nightcrawler, advised as his image came on the screen. Logan almost sprang up when he saw Kurt.

“No problem,” Black Widow replied. “We’ll be touching down in a few minutes.”

“We will see you shortly.” Kurt’s eyes met Wolverine’s.

“Elf. What the hell happened? How’s Bells?”

“Isa is fine. She wasn’t hurt. Just very frightened.” Kurt’s tone was grave. “Hank McCoy is with her.” Logan seemed to grow calmer at this.

“Have Blue tell her I’m gonna be there soon,” he said.

“I will,” Kurt nodded before signing out.

Logan clipped on his seatbelt, then scrubbed his hand across his face, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “She’s okay,” he repeated, his voice dropping with relief. “She’s okay…”

“At least she’s with McCoy, someone you can trust,” Tony pointed out. Hank McCoy, or the Beast, was the X-Men’s physician in residence. And not only was he very good at his job, but he was one of the only doctors that Wolverine could abide.

“Summers is gonna pay for this. Once I find out what the hell happened,” Wolverine said, gritting his teeth and cracking his knuckles, a sound that caused Steve to wince, “Summers is gonna pay.”

“Why don’t you let me come in with you?” Tony offered when Natasha looked back at him apprehensively. The last thing they needed was Wolverine making an attempt on Scott Summers’s life. It didn’t matter that the world would be a better place with one less douchebag, but it did matter that someone that they often counted on to do the dirty work when they ran missions with him. “We’ll figure out what happened, then we’ll figure out how to make Summers squirm.”

Wolverine turned to Tony, an astonished expression on his face, “You’re not a Summers fan, either?”

“You think I enjoy him trying to boss us around and dictate what goes on when we run missions with the X-Men? Absolutely not. You know who else doesn’t like him? Spidey. He makes fun of him behind his back all the time…”

“Tony.” Cap’s voice carried a warning. “That’s enough. Look, Logan, I know you’re pissed. Just try not to kill Summers for now, okay? The last thing we need is S.H.I.E.L.D. here investigating an incident that we should have stopped. I really don’t want to be told by Fury that it shouldn’t have happened on my watch.”

Logan settled back in his seat, scowling a bit at Steve. “Fair enough, Cap. But that don’t mean I’m not gonna make Summers pay for what mighta happened as soon as you three are gone.”

“Fair enough,” Steve muttered, turning to face the front as the jet came to a landing in the secret underground hangar at the institute.

They’d hardly come to a full stop when Wolverine had taken off his seatbelt and was making his way toward the exit of the jet. Once it was open, he ran down the ramp and to the medical wing. Tony tried to keep up with him, but it was no use. Once he rounded the corner and entered the corridor, he was greeted by Kitty Pryde, who waited for him, Natasha, and Steve.

“What the hell happened?” Tony asked the petite young brunette, who sighed, shaking her head.

“Just another case of Cyclops thinking he had things under control, but they went seriously wrong.” She shuddered. “We’re lucky she’s not hurt or killed. It could’ve been a lot worse. He’s unpredictable…”

“Who?” Natasha said. “Who’s unpredictable?”

“Wait a minute.” Kitty stopped in her tracks. “Kurt didn’t tell you? I thought he would have told you…”

“Told us what?”

“While Wolverine was running that mission to Madripoor with you guys, Sabretooth tried to break into the compound. We were able to get him contained – thanks to that new security feature you helped Hank and me install last summer, Tony, that was what got him – but Scott had this great idea to send Isabelle down to interrogate Sabretooth after Emma couldn’t get anything. He didn’t want to wait for the Professor, even though Kurt and I tried to tell him…” Kitty shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “Sabretooth went nuts. He…there’s footage of it. I can send it to you if you want, so we can see where the system might have failed. He said he could smell the baby…”

“The baby?” Oh, shit. This was not going to be good. Creed had threatened the safety of everyone in Wolverine’s life at one time or another, but he was an idiot to come here and try to stir up shit while Wolverine was gone for no other good reason but sheer boredom. First, there’d not only be Wolverine to deal with, but the Fae, too, who wouldn’t take too kindly to Creed fucking with one of their own, even if Isabelle was of what the Fae called “diluted blood.”

“Where’s Xavier?” Cap demanded.

“On his way back. He’s pretty pissed, too.” Kitty’s brows knitted. “We’re just trying to keep Wolvie as far away from Scott as possible. Until the Professor gets back.”

“Damage control,” Tony murmured. Even if Scott was douchecanoe, he still served a purpose on this team. Even if he wasn’t liked all the time, he still had leadership skills that were to be respected, but there were times, like this, when he went too far.

The door to the room Isabelle had been resting in was ajar, and Tony could see Logan sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Isabelle close, murmuring to her that he was sorry, that he shouldn’t have left, that if he’d known Creed was going to try and break into the mansion that he would have faced him man to man instead of letting Scott send her down into peril…

“Logan,” Isabelle said thickly, laughing, “Logan, it’s okay. It’s not like you could have known. For God’s sake, I’m just pregnant. It’s not like he tried to kill me.”

“What?” It was more of a growl than a question.

“Logan, you’re holding me too tight. I love you, too, but it’s going to bruise...”

“Sorry, darlin’.” There was a sound of rustling sheets. “That better?”

“Much. You’re not going anywhere?”

“No, I’m gonna stay right here till you go to sleep.”

“I’m just glad you’re home,” Isabelle said contentedly, laying her head on Logan’s chest and closing her eyes. After a few moments Tony cautiously entered the room. Even while Logan held Isabelle, seemingly so small and helpless now, he was tense with pent-up rage.

“She’s pregnant, Stark,” Logan said, his eyes blazing. “Summers sent her in there and she was pregnant. First I’m gonna get rid of Sabretooth once and fer all, then as for Summers…” He shook his head, the corners of his lips turning down.

“Forget that. Do you have a plan? You know, if things ever went south here?” Tony gingerly sat down in one of the chairs close to the entrance to the room.

“We talked about it. Especially with Trump as president, things ain’t lookin’ good. Isabelle and I want the baby to be born in France. She’s got dual citizenship, and they’ve got socialized health care over there. There’s a little cottage on the chateau grounds her grandparents said we could live in if we chose to move to France. Suits me just fine.” Logan smiled wanly. “So yeah, we’d leave the X-Men. But if you still needed me to run missions with you…”

“I’ll take you up on it, and Isabelle, too, when she’s feeling up to it after the baby is born.”

Logan nodded, clenching his jaw. “You gonna keep an eye on Bells here while I take care of some business? If you need anything, just push that blue button and McCoy’ll come down.”

“What business are you gonna take care of?” Stark asked, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly prickling.

Logan suddenly glared. “You know I ain’t gonna tell you that, Stark,” he snarled. “If I don’t tell ya, then there’s nothin’ you’ll have to say to Coulson.”

Nothing he’d have to say to Coulson? Tony sprang up as Logan disengaged himself from Isabelle and started toward the door. “You can’t do that, Logan.”

Tony heard the familiar _snikt_ sound of Wolverine’s claws as they popped out of their housings. “Whaddaya think I’m gonna do , Stark?”

“I know what you’re gonna do, Logan,” Tony said, “and I’m not gonna let you do it…”

“Get outta my way, Stark, if ya know what’s good for ya.” This wasn’t good. Wolverine’s pent-up anger was bubbling up to the surface now. All he’d had to do was think about the life that he and Isabelle could have together without the threat of Creed in it, and that was it.

Great. Wolverine was on the verge of a berserker rage. Tony knew he should step aside, for his own safety, but there was no way that he would do it. Not right now. Not when Logan had all the possibilities of a good life in front of him and was so ready to throw it all away…

“I warned you, Stark,” Logan snarled, and with a growl careened toward him. Tony quickly stepped aside, and made a face as he heard the thud of Logan making contact with the metal wall in the corridor. The thud of adamantium bone against the metal wall left a dent, and Logan held a hand to his head, as though stunned. That wouldn’t last long, especially with his healing factor. _He totally Wile E. Coyoted_ _that,_ Tony thought.

“Logan!” Tony heard Isabelle stagger out of bed and come to his side. Once she saw the damage to the wall, she clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh…fuck…” she intoned.

“It’s okay, Isabelle,” he called out. “You stay right there. Stay with her, Stark.” And with that, he was out in the corridor, making his way to the section of the underground facility where Creed was being held.

“What’s he going to do?” Isabelle asked him. She was still a little loopy, thanks to the Ativan Hank had given her.

“He’s gonna kill Sabretooth.” Tony watched as Isabelle dissipated into a silvery gray cloud of mist, threaded her way around him, then materialized in front of him.

“No, no, no,” Isabelle said. “That’s what Creed wants. I told Scott to keep the vibranium door up until Professor Xavier got here. He did, but…” She shook her head. “Press that blue button and tell Hank to get down here with Emma Frost…fast!”

“It’s a done deal,” Tony replied. He barked a warning to Cap and Black Widow through the comm link in his watch. Though Tony wasn’t sure how Cap’s shield would fare against three hundred pounds of adamantium skeleton, muscle, and a man on a mission to get rid of his biggest enemy once and for all.

He met Natasha at the corner outside the medlab, and Steve rounded the other corner, hoping to catch Logan before he made his way to the holding cells. Isabelle dissipated again, finding her way into the ductwork. Good, Tony thought. Maybe Isabelle could reason with him, talk him down. She’d done it plenty of times even before they’d hooked up.

Maybe she’d succeed this time, too.

The elevator from upstairs opened, and Tony was relieved to find Beast and Emma Frost emerging from it. Emma Frost, Scott’s new telepathic girlfriend after Jean Grey had died…again. Unlike Jean, who’d been a sincere, kind woman, Emma Frost’s name matched her nature; she was a stone-cold bitch.

“Rogue and Colossus are going to meet Captain America by the holding cells.” Beast’s eyes widened when he saw the door open behind Tony. “Sylphide is up?”

“What? She was supposed to just stay in bed while her husband risked his life like an idiot?” Natasha riposted. Emma Frost’s perfectly glossed lips curved into a smile.

“Our Isabelle. Always so stubborn,” she sighed, though Tony thought it was more of a jibe than an expression of apprehension. There was no love lost between Isabelle and Emma Frost, Tony knew that much. Just like there was no love lost between Cyclops and Wolverine.

Tony jumped when he heard the strange _bamf_ sound that signaled the appearance of Nightcrawler. He’d never get used to that, he thought to himself, turning around to address the indigo-skinned mutant who’d suddenly appeared beside him.

“Vould you like me to step in, Herr Stark?” Nightcrawler asked him with perfect aplomb. Like Logan’s berserker rages weren’t that big of a deal.

“Would you? I’m not in the mood to be shish kebab today. You can take him to the Tower. Talk him down, load him up with whiskey, do whatever you have to do to get him to calm down.”

Nightcrawler have a brisk nod, then disappeared in a cloud of purple and black smoke and sulfur. I’ll never get used to that, Tony thought as he heard Logan’s shout of surprise as Kurt appeared before him, and Isabelle’s voice as she materialized, and after that a growl of protest and a murmur of some kind, and then the third _bamf_.

  
And then, as the Bard said, the rest was silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "X-Men," "The Avengers," or any other Marvel properties, but all original characters are mine. To be read in conjunction with "Change Your Mind, Change Your Life," by the lovely LostMyMarbles.

Isabelle hadn’t expected her week to go so awry.

It had started out with Logan being called to go to Madripoor with Tony Stark and the Avengers. That wasn’t too bad; the Avengers Initiative had always paid well, and they could use the money. Just in case. Lately, it was always just in case.

“If you don’t want me to go, I won’t go,” he said as they got ready for bed the night before he was to leave. “I’ll tell Stark no. He’ll get it.”

Isabelle laughed as she wiped the last of the cold cream from her face and turned to him. “What’ll you tell him? I said that you couldn’t go? That you were in the doghouse?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He sounded a little put out at that.

“Oh, Logan, I was just teasing. I know you wouldn’t say that,” she said, turning to kiss him. But she’d known the reason why he’d really wanted to stay: the package of pregnancy tests had been nestled in her underwear drawer, unopened this month. Her period hadn’t come, not yet, though there’d been some slight bleeding. A good sign if you wanted to plan a pregnancy, and that was exactly what Logan and Isabelle were doing.

“Like I said, I don’t have to go,” he told her again. “I mean it.”

“Go ahead and go. I can wait until you get back,” she replied. It would be good to wait a few more days, just to see whether or not the bleeding might get heavier or if, this time, they might really have been successful. And if they had successfully conceived, then they wouldn’t be staying in the States for long, not after Donald Trump had become president. They’d come up with a plan b in this situation. Isabelle knew that it would disappoint some people, and maybe just piss a few off, but she wasn’t going to let other people dictate how she and Logan lived their lives, and she knew that Logan shared the same sentiment.

He pressed his lips to her forehead, then let her go so she could brush her teeth. “We’ll do it when I get back,” he said, grinning. He turned away so that he could finish getting ready for bed too. From the colors of his aura, the orange, the pale yellow, and the light blue, she could see that he was filled with an odd mélange of excitement and calm. A normal thought process for him, she reflected as she made her way back to the bedroom to pull back the covers on her side of the bed. Get through the mission, then go home in time to be with her while she took the pregnancy test.

He’d been the one who’d broached the subject of having a baby after they’d been married a year, “if you’re ready,” he’d amended. And to be honest, it was a good time to do it.

She’d just turned thirty-one when they’d decided to go for it. No time like the present, and anyhow, everything came with a risk of some kind. Because there were certain risks that had always come with being with Logan, risks she had been willing to take, regardless of those times he’d tried to push her away.

_This is you and me. 50/50. Partners. I have your back, just like you have mine._

He came to bed a few moments later, kissing her on the top of her head and murmuring good night to her as he settled in. She moved closer to him once he was situated, heard the sharp clink of his wedding band against the bedside table as he removed it. That was a sound she liked, one that bespoke routine, she thought as she kissed him on his neck and mumbled good night, too.

There were times when he would wake up at night and get out of bed, and he would either go outside or go downstairs that he wouldn’t disturb her. She could see from the colors of his aura when he was troubled, bit she wouldn’t always go to him. She understood that there were some things she couldn’t fix, that he would have to do it on his own when he was ready. But if she could see that he did need her, she would go to him. It provided reassurance, he’d told her once, that she was there. The night terrors had gotten better, that was what counted. He slept better at night with her beside him, he still insisted, just like he’d done when they’d talked about her moving into his room with him.

He left early that morning, kissing her good-bye. “I’ll be back later. I love you, Isabelle.”

“Love you, too,” she muttered before rolling over to go back to sleep. She’d heard him chuckle as he’d left. She was not, and had never been, a morning person.

Her alarm went off at seven-thirty. As she got ready for the day, she noticed that he’d left his wedding ring behind, like they always did when going on missions. A precaution, so they wouldn’t endanger one another if either one of them was caught. Absently, she picked it up, threading it through the gold charm necklace with the fleur de lys, the St. Jeanne d’Arc pendant, the birthstone, and the initial charms. A silly gesture, she knew, but it was reassuring at the same time. _Please let him come home safely_ , she entreated St. Jeanne.

She focused on her lesson plans for the day like normal at breakfast, ignoring the prickling on the back of her neck and the shivers up her spine. Something was off, she thought. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something, something left a metallic taste in her mouth, so much so that she had to push aside the bowl of granola she had been so looking forward to this morning.

She maintained a veneer of calm while walking her intro to French class through grammar drill. The conjugation of verbs was enough to keep her mind occupied. Second period, American literature, a smaller course in which she and her students could arrange their desks in a circle and have an actual discussion about what they were reading. Right now they were reading _The Virginian_ , one of Isabelle’s favorites and an excellent example, in her opinion, of the portrayal of the Wild West in American literature. After that was Victorian British literature, and they were reading _The Hound of the Baskervilles_.

In the middle of their discussion, the alarm went off. The alarm signaling that someone who shouldn’t be on the property was on the property.

Isabelle felt her blood thrumming in her ears as she stood up. “Keep calm,” she heard herself say. “You know which panic room we need to go to. We need to go quickly and quietly.”

Quickly and quietly, like little mice, she thought to herself. Once her students were out in the hallway, she saw Emma’s door open. The blond telepath, cool and collected as always, came to Isabelle’s side.

“Do they know who it is?” Isabelle asked her. Emma inclined her head, almost as though to examine Isabelle for a moment, before replying.

“It’s Victor Creed,” Emma replied. “It seems he heard the rumor that Wolverine was going off on a little jaunt and decided to pay us a visit and see what trouble he could get up to.”

“Do you need me to…?” Isabelle began, but Emma shook her head fiercely.

“No,” Emma interrupted. “Take the students down to the panic room, and wait until the situation is contained.” She gave Isabelle another sideways glance, then ventured, “Is everything all right?”

She wondered if Emma had been able to pierce through the shields that Charles had helped her to build using her Fae abilities. Emma was trying like hell right now; Isabelle could feel her skimming her mind. “I’m fine,” Isabelle said. “Or as fine as I can be with Sabretooth in close proximity.”

Emma offered an efficient nod. “Which is why Scott doesn’t want you anywhere near him until he’s contained,” she said soberly.

Isabelle’s jaw nearly dropped. Was this a kinder, more sympathetic Emma? Isabelle had never known the woman to be one to show any softer emotions. As tight as a jewel, Isabelle’s cousin Kaherdin had once whispered about Emma, and that was an apt observation, given Emma’s secondary mutation.

_You know what I could do to you? Break you into a million little pieces, like a little china doll. After I was done having fun with you._

Isabelle suppressed a shudder. He would do it. She was sure he would do it. There was no predicting what a creature like Sabretooth would do. Sabretooth, so enamored of the animal within himself, so eager to kill, pillage, destroy. He’d threatened to do so once, picking her up by her neck and squeezing so hard that she had thought that he would crush the fragile bones, and oh, dieu she would never see her mother again. She had done what she needed to so that she could survive, had pushed the carbon dioxide back into his lungs with a last ounce of determined, desperate strength before she had passed out.

“You’re lucky,” she had been told. “He would have killed you, if you didn’t have the Fae blood…”

The Fae blood, that somehow made her more physically resilient, the scent of which drove him mad. Now he had double the reason, and then some…

She squared her shoulders and stood at the entrance of the panic room, the vibranium door, courtesy of Prince T’Challa of Wakanda, cool against the back of her neck. When the last of the students had filed in, Isabelle walked into the room, shutting the door behind her and punching in the code to lock it.

Now…

Now they waited.

One of the younger children came to sit by her side. Levon, a young mutant whose powers had surfaced when he was only ten years old, had been plucked up out of foster care by Professor Xavier and had been brought to the school to live. Without a word, Isabelle pulled him close, and he rested his head underneath her chin. Those were always the saddest cases, the ones whose parents had thrown them out of the house for something that couldn’t be helped. Her own mother had been so protective of her, so determined to help her gain some equilibrium despite her mutation manifesting itself. She could only do the same.

It must have been only half an hour, but it felt like an eternity. Isabelle felt calm rush over her as the telepathic all-clear came from Emma to open the doors to the panic rooms.

Isabelle waited for the students to make their way into the hallway before closing the panic room door. She shivered at sudden chill that came as quickly as it had come.

Something still was off, Isabelle thought to herself as she saw Kurt in the hallway. He nodded in acknowledgement as she hurried to his side.

“Well?” she said. “What ended up happening? Did he go?”

Kurt’s lips pressed together for a brief moment, then he shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in dismay. “Emma was able to stun him telepathically. Scott said to put him in one of the holding cells downstairs.”

Isabelle sucked in her breath, Well, Logan wasn’t going to be happy about that. The last time he and Sabretooth had had a confrontation, Logan had promised to kill him. And that was one promise that Logan would make good on. “Did the Professor tell him to?”

Kurt shook his head. “Nein. It vas a decision Scott made himself.”

Of course he would, Isabelle thought, shaking her head. Capture the crazy feral mutant, let Professor Xavier know, and get a pat on the head like a good little boy. Scott Summers hadn’t changed one bit from Isabelle’s early days at the school. He always had something to prove, always had to be the best at whatever it was he was undertaking. There had been a kinder side to him, especially when he’d been younger and he’d still been with Jean, but after the Phoenix Force had taken Jean away from all of them, he had shut a part of himself away forever. There was a coldness to him now that Isabelle found disconcerting, and which had grown worse with his romantic attachment to Emma Frost.

“What are they going to do with him?”

“They’re waiting until the Professor returns to decide that.”

Isabelle began to make her way back to the classroom. Kurt fell into step with her. “They should just do the world a favor and put him down,” she said. “He’s a waste of space and…Kurt, don’t give me that look!” she exclaimed when she saw the reproachful expression on his face.

Kurt shook his head, sighing. “Sometimes it’s easy to forget that the Fae part of you makes you much more vindictive than you ought to be,” he remarked, his tone slightly sad.

Isabelle placed her hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you, Kurt,” she said. Unlike Isabelle, a lapsed Catholic who went to Mass only on holidays but still prayed the rosary and invoked her saints, Kurt’s deep, abiding faith was an integral part of his life, one that had gotten him through many of the bleaker moments of his existence. He was one of the kindest, most understanding people Isabelle knew, and was much more inclined to be forgiving than she was.

“You haven’t disappointed me, Isa,” he told her, taking her hand into his and squeezing it in a gesture of friendship. “But it should be the law, and not you, Logan, or anyone else, who metes out justice to Sabretooth for his crimes, whatever they might be.”

Whatever they might be. There are too many to count, Kurt, Isabelle thought as she straightened out the desks in the classroom. Maybe she ought to take the Mad Queen of Ys up on her offer to have Sabretooth put into a pearl pendant as a wedding present to her and Logan. “I still have to thank you and your pet for your help with the Loki incident,” Annelise had murmured into her ear at the wedding. “And really, as pets go, he seems a fine example of a human. Would you be willing to loan him out for a night? That is, if he’s willing…”

“We’re monogamous,” Isabelle had said quickly. ”Very monogamous.” The Loki incident had involved Annelise’s daughter, Princess Finette, and her determination marry the trickster god regardless of her mother’s wishes and despite the fact that she had a young chevalier who was eagerly seeking her hand. But Sieur Tristan hadn’t been eager enough for Finette’s liking, and her flirtation with the prince of Asgard had turned into a full-blown possible elopement, since Finette had told her mother that in no uncertain terms would she return to Ys an unmarried maiden. Annelise, in a brief moment of lucidity, had begged Isabelle to come to her assistance, “and bring your pet with you.” Logan, Isabelle, and Tristan had spent a few days in Prague tracking down what Logan called a stubborn teenager and Loki himself, who had found the whole situation to be amusing, for he’d conspired with Finette to force Tristan’s hand.

“Are you all right, Isa?” he asked her suddenly, appearing at her side with a _bamf_.

Isabelle busied herself with setting the desks to rights. The disturbance of Sabretooth’s appearance on the property had been a reason for Professor Xavier to cancel classes for the rest of the day, but studies would continue tomorrow. Ridiculous, Isabelle thought. They shouldn’t give Creed the satisfaction of knowing he had thrown off everyone’s daily routine. That was exactly what he craved, the knowledge that he had brought fear into the lives of those Logan loved or felt a duty to protect…

“I’m fine,” she told Kurt, plastering a smile on her face before turning to him. “I’ll be just peachy. I’m going to hole myself up in my room, order some Mediterranean takeout, and binge some Netflix. And stay as far away from Sabretooth as possible.”

Kurt inclined his head. “Vould you like one of us to join you? Kitty, maybe?”

“No, thanks, Kurt, but that’s sweet of you to offer. I really need to introvert.” The moon was almost full anyhow; Isabelle’s ability to read auras waxed and waned with the moon phases, and sometimes she would grow overwhelmed as the full moon approached. She could handle Logan, and sometimes he would spirit her away to that cabin of his in Canada for a few days, or time with the mansion’s resident telepaths, who were adept at shielding their auras from Isabelle’s discerning eye and sparing her the headaches. _North and South_ with Richard Armitage and chicken shawarma sounded amazing, though Logan would complain that she reeked of and tasted like garlic for a week. She was sure that was listed under her weaknesses somewhere: anything with garlic, chocolate, wine, historical costume dramas, and dark-haired, broody men with blue eyes that she could get lost in...

“You vill call if you need me?” he asked her tentatively.

Isabelle nodded, smiling. “Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all I have to do is call, and you’ll be there,” she sang out, and Kurt laughed. It was a good feeling, that bit of levity, though it only lasted a few moments.

Because she wouldn’t have a moment’s peace until Victor Creed was a good distance away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men, The Avengers, or any other Marvel properties, but all original characters are mine. To be read in conjunction with the lovely LostMyMarbles's "Change Your Mind, Change Your Life."
> 
> I've cast Lucy Griffiths (Nora Gainsborough from True Blood, Lady Marian from BBC's Robin Hood, and Emily Woodrow in Preacher, which I've never seen), as Isabelle. 
> 
> Isabelle does have Fae ancestry, and I'm drawing a lot from the lais of Marie de France, Arthurian legend, and other tales to flesh out the world of the Fae of Brittany and southern England. 
> 
> The original Hellfire Club did have some run-ins with the Broceliande Fae prior to the French Revolution, and a certain Comte de Saint-Germain, who will show up later in this fic, was involved as well. Of course, that's another story for another day.

What the Avengers had needed during this mission was Logan’s healing factor. A tip had come in from Tyger Tiger that there was a shipment of weapons waiting to be picked up by an illegal arms dealer supposedly hired by the Syrian government. The concern was that chemical weapons were in the package, things like nerve gas and sarin gas, things that could be used on innocent citizens to keep the rest of the discontented population under control. They’d been able to secure the shipment, including the nerve gas, which Logan had had the dubious privilege of handling.

Now they sat in one of the back rooms of the bar in Tyger Tiger’s casino, debriefing. He took another sip of water; his nostrils and mouth still stung from inhaling the gas.

“It was Russian,” Natasha said. “It had to be Russian.”

“Putin just can’t keep his nose out of anything, can he?” Cap murmured.

“Nope,” Logan replied, his voice even more gravelly than normal. “The asshole’s gotta try and make problems for everyone. Then while they’re dealin’ with the mess he created on the sly, he’s doin’ whatever he wants.”

Tony Stark laughed at that. He held up glass of vodka tonic. “That’s the best assessment of this clusterfuck I’ve ever heard, Wolvster. Congrats, you win comment of the day.”

“Thanks. I guess,” Logan replied, clinking his Heineken against Tony’s glass.

Russia was something to be watched closely with Putin in charge. When communism and Gorbachev had fallen and Yeltsin had come into power, it had really looked like the former Soviet Union might make the full transition to democracy. With Vladimir Putin, though, the promise of that had faded very quickly. Putin seemed more and more determined to bring back the former glory of not only the old Soviet Union, but of tsarist Russia, too. The fucker conducted his dirty business just like they used to in the old U.S.S.R., too. Next thing you knew, he might take a play out of Victor Von Doom’s book and crown himself Tsar of All the Russias again. And if that happened, things were fucked.

Not like things weren’t fucked in the States now, though, Logan thought, furrowing his brow under his mask and slouching down in his seat. Things weren’t good on the mutant rights front right now, not with Trump as president. Everyone had been confident that Hillary Clinton would win, even Hillary Clinton herself, to the point that she’d been overconfident and it had gotten not only to her head, but her party’s head. But on Election Night, all of the residents of the Xavier Institute had been glued to the television, watching in horror as one state after another had gone red. Logan had gotten up and gone up to the suite of rooms he and Isabelle shared. He’d sat on the balcony and drunk two bottles of whiskey and smoked almost an entire package of cigars. Isabelle had come up at about three in the morning, pale as a ghost with disbelief. She hadn’t even commented on the smell of cigar smoke in his clothes.

At least they had someplace to go. Isabelle had dual citizenship in both France and the United States, and Logan could enter the country and stay there legally, too, by virtue of his marriage to her, but there were other people who weren’t so lucky. People like Jubilee, who was in her senior year of high school, and Kurt Wagner, who couldn’t hide being a mutant behind the face of a normal human being.

“We can always help people emigrate,” Isabelle had said one night after they had discussed what their options were. There really was only one option: If things got too bad here for mutants in the United States, they would go to France. Her grandparents and mother still lived on the old family estate in Brittany, and the Brignonen family had a cider business that Tony Stark had just invested a bunch of money in to help take distribution worldwide. And there was the extended family in the Forest of Paimpont. Logan considered that to be a last resort, though.

Soon it became a question of not if they were going to go, but when.

And he’d broached the question one day when they’d been out for a walk on the grounds by the lake, the air sweet with the scent of apple blossoms and freshly dug earth, Isabelle’s hand in his. They’d seen a couple at Target earlier that day, the father carrying the few-months-old infant in a Baby Bjorn, pushing the cart, while the mother went over the list and tossed items in, then turned to the father and asked if they needed paper towels. And he’d felt that clenching in his heart, the ache of longing and slight disappointment whenever he thought about the things he’d never had, like a name, a home, a family, a past he could remember…before coming to the Institute, before Isabelle…

“You wanna try for a baby?” he’d asked her, and she’d stopped, staring at him in shock, her lips slightly parted.

“What did you just say?”

“I asked if you wanna try for a baby. Start a family.”

She’d let go of his hand. “I thought you wanted to wait. Especially now, with everything as it is…” Her voice had trailed off, and she’d wandered to the shore of the lake, gazing at its clear, cool depths with intensity.

“We can start tryin’ now, and if it happens, we can go to France and you can have the baby there.” Citizenship in the European Union was something they both wanted any children of theirs to have, in case something should go awry here in the U.S. He came up behind her, drawing her close to him, and she leaned against him, relaxing.

“It’s a good plan,” she’d said, turning to him, circling her arms about his neck and looking into his eyes, a smile playing on her lips. “When do you want to start trying? You know, so I can get my IUD taken out?”

He’d grinned, kissing her. “As soon as you can get it out, darlin’,” he’d told her, and she had started laughing.

“So how are things with you and your little fencer, Patch?” Tyger Tiger asked him when he went upstairs to get more beer. Tony was being an idiot again and trying to get Cap to do some shots. Usually Logan would have been all for it, even egged it on, but now he wanted to get home to his wife. _So she can pee on a stick,_ he said to himself, shaking his head. _So you can figure out whether or not Mr. Stork is going to make a delivery in nine months or so._

“They’re good,” he replied. “Real good. How’re things with you?”

“The same since we last talked,” Tyger replied, pouring some Japanese beer, Kirin Lager, into a frosted mug. “But I’m glad things are good for you and her, Logan. I’m thrilled to see you happy.” She handed him the mug with a gentle smile.

Happy. Yes, for the first time in a long time, he was actually happy. And he’d never suspected it to be Isabelle, the quiet, elfin-faced young woman who had watched his arrival from an upstairs window of the Institute.

“Thanks,” he responded, smiling wanly. Tyger had been a support to him after Mariko had died, had helped to pull him out of his funk and feel again. He’d left the X-Men and had gone to Madripoor, and had had no plans to return in the near future, until Kurt had called to tell him that Isabelle’s mother had taken a turn for the worse.

It had been complications from lupuss, sepsis in the kidneys, to the point that Susanne had lapsed into a coma and had been put on life support. And he’d had to go back, he’d promised Isabelle that he would be there when she needed him. And right then, when she’d had to make the decision to allow the Mad Queen of Ys to cast the spell that would cure her mother, and to accept the geas that came with it, he had been there. She’d tried so hard to put on a brave face for everyone, but she hadn’t been able to do that forever. He remembered how she’d wilted against him after the decision had been made, burying her face into his shoulder and sobbing her heart out as he’d held her. He’d made a promise to be there when she might need him most, and he had honored that promise.

He’d honored every promise he’d made to her since then.

He finished his beer, then checked the clock on the wall behind the cocktail bar. They had about a twenty-hour flight ahead of them, and he wanted to get back to the Institute.  
“Thanks for the beer,” he told Tyger.

She acknowledged him with a nod and a small, slightly sad smile. She’d never liked saying good-bye to him when they had been involved, and it was still the same now. He knew exactly what that sharp sting felt like, knowing that someone you’d loved once and still loved, just a little bit, was leaving you, going to the person they had chosen to share their life with. The sharp sting mingled with the sense of satisfaction you got knowing that that someone was living a good life with someone who loved them, who was good for them in ways you could never be…

He made his way downstairs, where Natasha was checking her SHIELD-issued tablet for messages while Tony and Cap finished up their glasses of cognac. Cap was looking a little green under the gills, spluttering at the taste of the alcohol, and Tony was laughing just a little too much.

“Want me to copilot?” he asked Natasha. Her eyes slid up from the screen, and she glanced at Tony, who was pleasantly buzzed.

“Until Tony sleeps off the effects of the alcohol? Good idea.” She tucked the tablet into a pocket in her suit, her eyes not leaving him. Her brows knitted, and she asked him,

“Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Just wantin’ to get home.”

The expression on Natasha’s face lightened, and her eyes lit up in understanding. “Oh, I totally get why you want to get home!” she said. “You and Isabelle have plans?”

He shifted uneasily. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Well, we’ll get you home in time. No need to worry about that. Why not give her a call on the way home?” Natasha suggested.

A good plan, he thought. He went to help her round up Cap and Tony and get them out to the jet. His throat was still a little sore, so he made sure to have a bottle of water with him before he took his seat in the copilot’s chair. Tony was already drowsing in the back, and Cap leaned back in his seat, trying to make himself comfortable. Once they were in the air, far away from Madripoor, he put a call through to the school. Gambit, looking exhausted and pale, answered.

“You look like shit, Gumbo,” he jibed, though Gambit didn’t offer a comeback this time like he normally would. “Can you put me through to Bells?”

“C’est pas possible, mon ami,” Gambit replied, shaking his head. “Isabelle, she’s in the medical wing. Doped up out her mind.”

Logan felt his stomach drop, like he’d been punched in the gut. Natasha glanced over at him, her eyes inquisitive.

“Can you tell us what happened, Gambit?” she said. Logan was thankful for the Black Widow’s quick thinking in that moment.

Gambit shook his head, his expression turning into one of disgust. “It was all Cyclops’s doing, Emma’s idea. Sabretooth had broken in, we go on lockdown, we get him contained. We all think, ça va bien. Emma tried to read his mind, but she got nothing. We thought we was gonna wait till Xavier got back. Then they call Isabelle down. ‘Isabelle, we have a job for you.’ I told them not to put her down there, Kitty told them not to put her down there. But he listen? Non. She did not want to go down there, but he ordered her to. ‘No worries, you will be protected, Colossus and Rogue will be there for you.’ So she went. He tried to get to her, tried to break through the door…”

Logan was silent as the words sunk in. _Isabelle._ _The baby…if there is a baby._

I told him not to put her down there.

“Cyclops did what?” Cap exclaimed. He was wide awake now, and Logan could hear him take off his seatbelt and come to the cockpit.

“She’s okay, though, right?” Natasha said. “It sounds like she’s okay…”

“Hank says she’s gonna be okay. She’s a little shaken up, but she’s okay.”

“Summers fucked up. Summers fucked up hard,” Logan gritted out through clenched teeth. The rage was consuming him now, making him twitchy. He wanted to pounce, attack, kill, bury his claws into Scott Summers’s throat and feel the blood splashing on his face and watch the light leave Scott’s eyes…

Logan, come back. Come back to me. The things around you, remember? Tell me what you see, smell, feel, and hear around you right now. Three is a good number. Let’s do three things, okay?

One, the sound of the jet’s engines.

Two, Gambit signing off.

Three, Natasha’s hand on his arm.

“There’s nothing we can do until we get back to Westchester,” she said.

“We?” he echoed, turning to Natasha.

“We. Logan, you’re part of this team, too. Whatever happened, we’ll figure it out, and we’ll help you from there.”

“Even if it means helping you put Summers in his place,” Cap said, clapping a hand on Logan’s shoulder.

Logan placed his hand over Natasha’s. “Thanks, Tasha. I appreciate it. Bells would, too.”

“I know she would.” Natasha offered him a reassuring look and turned her attention back to piloting the jet. “You okay with max speed?”

He let out a bitter laugh. “The sooner we get there,” he said, “the better.”  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, we'll see what exactly happened.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or any other Marvel properties, but all original characters are mine. To be read in conjunction with the lovely LostMyMarbles's "Change Your Mind, Change Your Life."

Under normal circumstances, if Victor Creed had somehow made his way onto the compound and had been contained and kept downstairs, Isabelle would have gone for the Ativan she kept in the top drawer on her side of the bathroom counter and taken one, just to keep the prickling at the back of her mind at bay.

But right now, she wouldn’t, not when she might be in the first trimester of pregnancy.

Something in her wanted to run, to flee, and to stay away until Creed was gone. She did have an open invitation at the Avengers Tower whenever Logan went on a mission with  
them, and she was tempted to take Jubilee and stay a few days there. But she couldn’t leave her students behind.

So she was going to sit up here holed up in her room eating Mediterranean food and cuddling with her cat, Voltaire, until Logan got back.

“I can’t believe you’re holing yourself up in here like this,” Jubilee remarked when she came in to watch the end of North and South with Isabelle. The end that was her favorite part, when John Thornton went after Margaret Hale after realizing he loved her and didn’t want to be parted from her. “Are you gonna sit up here and watch Jane Austen movies until Logan gets back?”

“North and South isn’t Jane Austen, it’s Elizabeth Gaskell,” Isabelle told Jubilee matter-of-factly, reaching for another piece of shawarma. “You should know that.”

“Because you’ve told me how many times?” Jubilee mumbled, rolling her eyes.

“I just thought I’d remind you,” Isabelle teased, throwing a pillow from the couch at her. “We can always go to Avengers Tower. I’m sure Jane and Darcy and Pepper would love to see you.”

“If you want to go, you should just go. I’ll be fine by myself.” Jubilee plonked down on the couch beside Isabelle. Voltaire went to her with an inquisitive meow, and Jubilee picked him up and placed him in her lap, stroking him under the chin. Isabelle giggled as the cat began to purr as loudly as the motor on Logan's motorcycle.

Isabelle shook her head. After what had happened last time, there was no way she was leaving Jubilee alone here with Sabretooth downstairs, even if he was secured. “No. Not with Creed here.”

Jubilee reached for a piece of chicken shawarma. “You okay, Bells?” she said, her brow puckering with concern.

Isabelle glanced away from her. “I’m fine, Jubilee. I just don’t want to leave the students alone if he gets out…”

“You’re scared he’ll get out?”

“He did, once. If you remember.”

Jubilee frowned. “I remember. You shot at him with Fae bolts. He was pretty pissed. You should have just done us all a favor and stabbed him with your rapier.”

“Which I didn’t have on me at the time, and it was an emergency.” Isabelle tossed her head, brushing a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “I was improvising.”

“Good thing you did,” Jubilee said, shuddering. She leaned her head on Isabelle’s shoulder for a moment. Isabelle sighed and stroked her hair. Jubilee had come to the school at the age of thirteen, as a stray that Logan had brought with him. She’d become his shadow, and he was the closest thing she’d had to a father since the death of her own parents.

Logan had gone so far as to adopt her, legally, before he’d married Isabelle, in case, he always said, things got bad.

“Why don’t we go to the Avengers Tower?” Jubilee said suddenly. “Just for the night, until Professor Xavier gets back.”

“I thought you wanted to stay here.”

“But you suggested we go. And after you brought up that time…Bells, I think we should. Until Professor Xavier decides what to do with him.”

Isabelle chewed on her lower lip for a moment. Yes, going to the Avengers Tower would be a good idea. They could pack a bag for Logan, tell him they had decided to stay at the Tower until Sabretooth had been removed from the premises. They would have to tell Laura, too, who was in Washington with Ororo and Professor Xavier, and she’d probably make her way to the Tower, too. The key was to avoid any type of contact with Sabretooth, especially…

_Especially since I might be pregnant._

She’d been ovulating and fertile a little over a week ago, and she and Logan had taken advantage of every moment they could to be alone together, just as they had for the last few months. Usually it took about four months to a year for couples to conceive after the prospective mother had had the IUD removed, but Logan had cracked a joke about his healing factor making a difference.

“In what respect?” Isabelle had riposted, laughing.

He’d laughed, too, pulling her close. “Want me to show you?”

She’d circled her arms around his neck, letting her fingers graze the sensitive skin close to his scalp. “I’m dying to know.”

She’d been relieved that he’d had the walls to his bedroom soundproofed years ago.

A beep from the intercom system started her from her reverie, and she got up to answer it.

“Isabelle?” she heard Scott say.

“Logan isn’t back yet.”

“I see,” Scott said. There was a moment’s pause, and Isabelle felt a prickling at her spine. “Can you come down here? We just need to talk to you a minute.”  
Really? “I’ll be down shortly,” she said, and turned off the intercom. Suddenly, she felt cold, and she began to shiver.

She heard Jubilee get up from the couch. “Bells, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Isabelle snipped out, turning to Jubilee. “Scott needs me down in the ready room. This won’t take long. Why don’t you get packed for a few days at Avengers Tower?”

Jubilee nodded, then hurried to her room to pack. Isabelle took a deep breath to still herself, then made her way down to the ready room in the sub-basement. It probably wasn’t anything, just a quick question that they had for her. Maybe it was a request to keep Logan away from Sabretooth until they could get him transferred elsewhere, like maybe to Genosha. Or maybe they wanted the Fae to take Sabretooth once and for all. Queen Annelise had, after all, offered to encase him in a pearl as a wedding present…

When she entered the ready room, she found Scott and Emma in there already. Rogue entered it behind her, then Colossus. Gambit and Kitty had already taken their places at the table. Emma watched her in earnest as she wandered in and took her seat. Scott offered a brisk and a gentle smile in greeting.

He wanted something from her.

And she was sure that it was something that she wouldn’t like.

“Thanks for coming down her, Sylphide,” he said. He was using her code name. Her eyes narrowed at that. That meant official business, not a general favor like, Isabelle, can you translate this French to English for me on the fly? “Emma and I need your help with something…”

She bristled at that, at the changes in his aura. Muddy blue, muddy forest green, dark muddy pink, yellowish orange… Just what do you want, Scott? He was trying to be subtle. Subtlety wasn’t, and never had been, one of Scott’s strong points. “Just what exactly is this something?” she said, inclining her head and staring at Scott levelly. His aura shifted again, and his colors darkened to a dirty brown overlay. There was more to this than he and Emma were letting on…

Scott cleared his throat, and Emma extended whatever shield she had over herself to Scott. No more colors, no way to tell what his motivations might be… “We need you to go in and see what you can get from Sabretooth…”

Isabelle felt her heart leap to her throat. “What do you want me to do?”

The rest of the room erupted in horror and disbelief.

“Scott! You can’t expect her to do that…” Kitty began.

“Are you crazy?” Rogue exclaimed, springing up from her seat. From the expression on her face and the red in her aura, Isabelle almost expected her to flip the table…

Piotr came to Isabelle’s side, placing a large hand on her shoulder. “I cannot allow this, tovarisch. It is too dangerous. Sabretooth is not a man to be trusted.”

“We should wait for Xavier, non?” Gambit suggested coolly from his corner, taking the deck of cards out of his pocket and shuffling them once or twice. “Let him see what Sabretooth wants. And let him decide what to do with la bete.”

“The Fae have a price on his head,” Isabelle heard herself say. Her voice sounded tinny, distant, like it was from a radio signal that wasn’t coming through well. “We should wait…”

Scott folded his arms across his chest, glaring down at Isabelle. “We’re not waiting. As soon as Wolverine gets back, Sabretooth is going to be way too unpredictable. We get what we need from him now and give it to Professor Xavier when he gets back.”

 _I should have let Annelise put him in that pearl,_ Isabelle thought, her stomach pitching. “I am not going down there,” she declared. “There’s no way I’m going down there.”

“Not even if I send Rogue and Colossus in there with you?” Scott said. It was so hard to see his entire expression behind the red lenses of his glasses.

She shook her head resolutely. “No, Scott, I’m not going down there…”

He stared at her for a few moments, his jaw clenching. He and Emma exchanged glances. Oh, there was a telepathic conversation going on between the two of them, all right. So Emma was in on this, too.

Of course she is, Isabelle thought to herself, squaring her shoulders and standing just a little bit taller.

“You’re going in there, Sylphide. That’s an order. Rogue and Colossus will have your back if anything goes down. You go in, you get what we need, and you hurry back and report to us. Is that understood?”

Isabelle felt the color drain from her face. It used to not be this way. When she’d been much younger, when she’d first arrived at the school, she and Scott had been close. He’d been the older brother to her that she’d never had, just like Jean had been the sister she’d never had. It had all changed as Isabelle had grown up, had become more rebellious, more apt to question what he did but why he did it. And that had irked Scott. He didn’t like being questioned, Isabelle knew that. And Jean…

“Jean would never have let you do this,” Isabelle heard herself say. There, there it went again, her mouth. As soon as the thought had entered her mind, she’d spoken it. And the look on Scott’s face…he looked like he’d been punched in the gut.

“It doesn’t matter now what Jean would or wouldn’t have let me do,” he gritted out. “Jean’s gone. What matters right now is what you can get from Sabretooth. The sooner you go in and get it, the sooner it will be over and done with.”

Isabelle glanced behind her, at the shocked faces of the other X-Men. Rogue came to her side, her lips pressed tightly together.

“You heard him,” she said, eyeing Scott disparagingly. “The sooner we go in and get whatever it is old Cyclops here needs from Sabretooth, the sooner it’ll be over and done with. Feels like an execution, doesn’t it, Bells?” Rogue elbowed Isabelle, a wry smile on her face.

“Like I’m going to the guillotine,” Isabelle quipped. She led the way out of the ready room and toward the corridor, which they would take to get to the holding cells, where Sabretooth had been secured.

“No need to worry, _volshebnitsa_ ,” Piotr murmured. “We will be there for you. If he tries anything, he’ll regret it…”

“Let’s hope so,” Isabelle replied, her hands beginning to tremble as they made their way to the cell where Sabretooth was currently being held. Hopefully those vibranium doors would be enough to hold him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or any other Marvel characters, but all original characters are mine. To be read in conjunction with the love LostMyMarbles's "Change Your MInd, Change Your Life."

When Rogue and Isabelle had been younger, and when Isabelle’s mother had still been here, Rogue would come to the guest house on the Xavier estate where Isabelle and her mother had lived for sleepovers. Long after Isabelle’s mother had gone to bed, the girls would sit up watching horror movies, from the classic black-and-whites of old Hollywood to current slashers that made Isabelle cover her eyes in fear. _Silence of the Lambs_ , though, that was different. And right now, Isabelle couldn’t help but be reminded of the scene in which Clarice Starling had gone to visit Hannibal Lecter at the Baltimore State for the Criminally Insane for the very first time.

Only in this case, the prisoner from whom she was going to gather information was the self-appointed bogeyman in not only her life, but her husband’s life, someone who embraced the animalistic urges to kill and to destroy that welled up within him.

She drew a deep breath and steeled herself, her hand flying to the St. Jeanne d’Arc pendant she wore. She wrapped her fingers about it and Logan’s wedding band, pressing them together. She and Jubilee would pack up and go to the Avengers Tower after this. She would call for the Queen of Ys to come and take Sabretooth away, no matter what Scott or the Professor or anyone else might say, so he could never torment them again…

She closed her eyes for a brief moment. _Blessed Joan, duty bound to God, give me courage…_

“If you do not want to do this, Isabelle,” Colossus said to her gently, “you don’t need to. We will wait until Xavier gets back…”

She glanced back at him. He had already taken his metallic form, ready to defend her should he need to, either against Sabretooth or against Scott Summers, whoever she might have to stand against.

But there was so much they didn’t know. Like why had Sabretooth come here to the mansion while Logan was gone? Had he come on the orders of Weapon X to try and bring Logan back? Even though the program had supposedly been shut down long ago, there were other people, private individuals, who would secretly fund such a project to see how far it could go. Or someone like Mr. Sinister, who had no problem experimenting on anything that lived.

And if she was pregnant…

They knew she had Fae blood. They knew that she and Logan might have children, and that those children could very well inherit not only each parent’s mutation, but Isabelle’s Fae blood, too.

And that could put any child that they had in danger.

They had to know why he was there.

Isabelle squared her shoulders, then told Piotr, “I don’t have a choice, Piotr. I’m going to do it. There’s just too much that we don’t know…”

Piotr swallowed, then nodded. “We will be right here, _volchebnitsa_.”

“If he makes one false move, I’ll snap his neck,” Rogue promised Isabelle. Isabelle offered her a wan smile before continuing down the corridor to Sabretooth’s holding cell.

He’d been locked in a maximum security cell, one built out of concrete, vibranium, and adamantium steel. She could see him pacing the length of the cell, the rubber heels of his leather boots making a cold sound on the metal floor. He’d let himself go wild again; his hair was shaggy, his beard unshaven, the claws that he had in place of fingernails longer than usual. Isabelle watched him through the small forcefield window that took up the upper half of the virbranium door. He stopped, sniffing at the air for a moment, before turning slowly to face her.

“Well, if it ain’t the little airy-fairy girl,” he said, his grin revealing his sharp fangs. “They send you down here as an appetizer?”

Isabelle felt a shiver run up down her spine as his vacant amber eyes met hers, eyes without pupils. Eyes like a demon’s, Isabelle thought to herself. His aura had always been an odd mixture of black and muddy browns, reds, and greens. All anger, hatred, emptiness, blackness. An animal in a man’s body, a man who embraced the horrible creature he was. Even here, even locked up away from her, he frightened her, and he was still in a coherent state of mind.

Logan in his worst rages had never frightened her like this, not even during those times when he’d had terrible flashbacks. Once he’d been so far gone that he’d had to be contained within that very cell, and she and Jean and Professor Xavier had taken shifts to stay up all night with him, trying to bring him back out of whatever terrible hallucination his mind had concocted and back to reality. She had sat with on the floor in front of the cell for hours, studying his aura, trying to speak with him, until she had realized that just by talking to him, she had been able to bring him out of his feral mental state, bit by bit. An idea had struck her, and she had hurried to her room at the guesthouse to grab a few books. Professor Xavier had come to the holding cell early the next morning to find Isabelle asleep on her air mattress, still clutching her battered copy of _The Last Unicorn_. Logan himself, though a little worse for wear, had finally been coherent. She had been up the entire night reading to him, slowly bringing him out of his animal state.

“I’m going to ignore what you just said,” she snapped out, lifting her chin defiantly. “I want to know why you’re here.”

He came closer to the door, his predatory gaze fixed on her. He inclined his head in a strange, feline manner. “I can see it, ya know,” he said. “Around you.” He lifted his index finger to point at her, then gestured around his head. “Silver. The women always glow silver. The men glow gold. These other idiots might not be able to see it until you get in the dark with them, but I can. You don’t think they don’t know about you?”

She drew a deep breath. “Who are they?”

He laughed. “You think I’m gonna tell you? They ain’t interested in you. To them, you ain’t nothin’ but a spoiled little bitch. But Wolverine…” His voice trailed off, and his lips curled into a hideous grin, the fangs sharp and glinting in the dim light. “When they’re done with him, he won’t even remember you.”

Logan. Of course they would want Logan, whoever they were. She could see the picture in her mind’s eye: Logan, alone, scared, trying to remember something but being able to access the thought, pining for something that he didn’t know he missed… All of the things she had seen when she had first peered into his aura, at the feelings and images that seeped into it from his subconscious…

“You know that won’t happen!” Isabelle exclaimed, her hands clenching into fists. “We won’t let it happen!”

He leered down at her. “Who? You and the rest of Xavier’s goody-goody crew? What makes you think you could? And without Logan around, that means…” His eyes raked over Isabelle covetously, and he pressed his face against the forcefield, sniffing deeply, and she caught red in his aura.

It was all too easy to put two and two together there, she thought, her lip curling in disgust as he sniffed deeply again, as though taking in the bouquet of a fine glass of wine before tasting it. “Go fuck yourself!” she spat out, her heart beginning to pound. Her muscles tensed with the desire to run, to flee to the safest spot she could…

His eyes snapped open. A low growl emitted from him, and he grinned at her again. “Well,” he drawled. “Ain’t that something. Never thought he’d do it, but here it is.”

She remained silent, her blood thrumming in her ears. He let a claw grate against the metal of the door, and he laughed when she flinched at the sound. Trembling now, she heard Rogue’s footfall back around the corner.

“The runt put a bun in yer oven, didn’t he?” he said softly, his eyes glinting mischievously. “I can smell it. He was in you, that’s for sure, what, a few days ago? It don’t matter how much you’ve scrubbed yourself, baby, I can smell him. I can smell him all over you. And look at you, all wide-eyed, like a deer in the headlights. ‘How could he even know?’” He affected a high-pitched tone. “I’ll tell ya how I know, baby: I can smell your brat.”

Isabelle felt the cold grip of fear around her heart. She drew a shaky breath.

That was the trigger.

He took a few steps back, then threw himself up against the door. She shrieked at the sound of his body hitting the metal.

“When I get outta here, I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna kill you and your little brat. An’ the runt’ll never forget what he sees.”

She heard Creed’s body run up against the door again, and this time hairline cracks appeared in the concrete.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

Isabelle’s heart leapt to her throat. Not if I kill you first. She held out her hand, concentrating hard on the air around him, pushing it back into his lungs. His hand flew to his neck, and he made a strange wheezing sound.

“Isabelle!” Piotr shouted behind her. “Isabelle, we are right here. You can stop now…”

She whirled to face Piotr. “No,” she replied, her voice sounding strangely metallic. “He threatened me. He threatened my baby. Logan’s and my baby. Our baby.” She heard Rogue gasp as she turned her attention back to Creed. The veins straining against the skin of his neck and his eyes bulged as he dropped to his knees, trying to catch a breath. He coughed again, before his face started to turn blue.

Stop. You’re going to kill him, something inside of her begged.

The Fae part of her laughed. Let him die. That way he won’t be able to hurt you, Logan, your baby, or anyone else anymore.

“Isabelle!” Rogue entreated. “Isabelle, stop! You’re killin’ him! I know you’re scared, I know he said he’d kill you. But you’re not like him.”

Isabelle glanced back at Rogue, who reached for her hand. “You’re not like him, sugar. You don’t want his blood on your hands. You’re better than he is.”

Isabelle felt tears prick her eyes. She relieved the pressure just a little bit, just to incapacitate him instead. In a moment he tumbled, his face hitting the floor hard. He turned his head, his eyes meeting Isabelle’s. “I’ll kill you,” he choked out before losing consciousness.

She dissipated into a silvery mist and threaded her way up to the ductwork, where she remained until Beast was able to persuade her to come out.

******  
  
All was quiet on the grounds of the Chateau de Brignonen in Brittany. The wind came in cool from the sea, and the full moon shone like a beacon in the clear night sky. These were the nights that Yseult liked best, when she would venture out of the woodlands where her father’s holdings lay, with her pendulum in hand, and spend the silent hours trying to bring on a full moon vision. Her cousin Isabelle was wont to do the same, and sometimes in the summers, when Isabelle was here, they would sit together, quiet, still, their eyes closed, the only sounds around them the singing of the nightingale, the breeze around them, and their own breathing. Once a herd of deer had timorously ventured out of the woods and approached them, and Yseult’s eyes had captured Isabelle’s, rapt with wonder at the sight before them.

Tonight Yseult would be alone, and she chose the Roman garden, selecting a spot by the tinkling marble fountain where she might best catch the moon’s rays. She fished her pendulum out of the pocket of her gown. It had been a gift from the Queen of Broceliande, just as Isabelle’s was. The chain and pendant were both made of fine silver, embellished with fleur-de-lys and triskeles, the sign of the King and Queen’s houses, the union of the line of Merlin and Nimue and the House of Broceliande, and set with the clearest, darkest amethyst that Yseult had ever seen. She knelt on the cool green grass and drew a deep breath, smiling at the sound of an owl hooting. Lovely, she thought to herself as she exhaled, then inhaled again. She repeated the rhythm until her mind was clear, closing her eyes.

She held her pendulum close to her heart, passing a finger over the stone. She glanced up toward the woodland, her brow furrowing. Something was amiss.

She began to shiver, fear closing around her heart. Her pulse began to race.

Her mind’s eye cleared, and she could see a man contained in a prison of some sort. He was standing close to the door. After he sniffed the air, a savage grin broke across his face.

The runt put a bun in yer oven, didn’t he?

  
I’m gonna kill you…

Yseult’s eyes shot open. Isabelle. Her own cousin Isabelle.

 _Danger._ Isabelle was in danger. And…

She was expecting a child. News that should be given joyfully, not in a moment of terror like this.

She let go of her pendulum, dropping it into the pocket of her gown. Shakily, she got to her feet, then ran toward the woodland, calling for her brother.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men, The Avengers, or any other Marvel properties, but all original characters are mine.

Pepper Potts had hardly received the call from Tony that they were having impromptu visitors at the Avengers Tower when Nightcrawler of the X-Men appeared in her office in a cloud of purple-black smoke, with a wide-eyed Isabelle Brignonen-Howlett clutching his hand and an unconscious Wolverine slumped against her.

“They’re there already?” Tony said as Pepper got out of her chair and cautiously made her way toward them.

“Yeah, Tony, they’re here already,” Pepper replied.

“Damn, that’s fast! Okay, well, like I said, get them a suite. We’ll figure out everything else when we get back and after we’ve dealt with a very pissed-off Wolverine.”

Pepper held out her hand to Isabelle to help her up. “I think I can handle it until you get back,” she said before saying good-bye to Tony and ending the call. She glanced at Isabelle, whose face was pale and whose hand trembled in hers. “You okay?” she asked Isabelle as she led her over to the microfiber chair on the other side of the office.

“I’m fine,” Isabelle replied. “I just…May I have some water, please?”

“Sure.” Pepper went to pour her some water while Kurt ventured toward the couch.

“Do you mind?” he asked, pointing toward a pillow. Pepper sucked in her breath, then offered a quick nod.

“No, of course not. Go ahead.”

With that, Kurt took one of the pillows from the couch in Pepper’s office and put it under Wolverine’s head. “He vill be up in about fifteen minutes or so. How long was it last time, Isa?”

“About fifteen minutes. It might be more like half an hour, I really packed a punch this time,” Isabelle explained as Pepper handed her the glass of water. “I really don’t know how hard I much I pushed back in. He’s still breathing, so he’ll be okay.” She winced as she sipped her water. “I just hope he’s not too pissed at me.”

“In that case, should we take him to the common room?” Pepper offered. “We can call Thor down if we need to.”

Isabelle chewed on a cuticle. “He’s going to be pissed, but not at me. Scott Summers is the one he’s pissed at. With us this far away from the school, Kurt and I can reason with him.”

Pepper’s brow rose. From what she knew of Scott Summers, he could get really wrapped up in his position as the leader of the X-Men, to the point that he got on people’s nerves, even if he was a good leader. He and Wolverine didn’t have a good personal history, and Pepper had seen it crop up a few times when the X-Men had come to the Avengers Tower for a debriefing. “If there’s an issue, let me know and I’ll call Thor. In the meantime, I’ll have one of the apartments set up for you. Tony’s on his way back. He’ll explain more when you see him.”

Kurt took touched Logan’s shoulder and disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke, while Isabelle followed Pepper to the common room. Pepper glanced back at Isabelle, who was twisting her wedding and engagement rings around her finger or playing with the tiny pendants on her necklace. This was a different Isabelle from the poised, yet reserved, young woman who had sometimes come to the Tower with Logan to attend Tony’s parties. Tony had said there’d been an attack or a threat of some kind, but to see Isabelle like this…something bad must have happened.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Pepper asked her again.

Isabelle stopped in the hallway, giving a very French huff and shrugging her shoulders. “Oh, I’m fine. I was coerced into going down to Sabretooth’s holding cell and try to read his aura when he smelled that I was pregnant and proceeded to threaten both my baby and me. And that was after we had to go on lockdown earlier today at the school. So this has just been a great day. How are you?” she said, her greenish blue eyes meeting Pepper’s once again.

“Other than this? My day has been pretty uneventful. Just meetings and all of the normal things I do.”

“It must be nice,” Isabelle sighed as she resumed following Pepper down the hallway to the common room. “You know, you’ve been very nice to us, Pepper. I’m surprised at how calm you’ve remained…”

Pepper laughed. “I’ve been through worse situations, Bells. I’m sorry your day turned out to be so horrible.”

“Well, it’s not over yet,” Isabelle quipped. “You’ve been so nice. You’re always so nice…”

And that had to be the Ativan.

They entered the common room to find that Logan had awakened, and Kurt was getting him a bottle of water. He blinked muzzily before seeing Isabelle wandering in beside Pepper.

“You had Kurt bring us to the Avengers Tower after you choked me out?” he gritted out.

Isabelle rolled her eyes and dissipated into the air, making her way toward the couch and rematerializing beside Logan. “What else was I supposed to do? You had murder in your eyes.” She took off her necklace and removed one of the pendants, which, Pepper saw, was his wedding ring.

He took off his gloves and set them aside, holding out his hand. Isabelle dropped the wedding ring into his palm. He slipped the ring onto his left ring finger. “I didn’t have murder in my eyes. I was just gonna teach Summers a lesson he wasn’t gonna forget.”

“You were going into berserker mode,” Isabelle protested, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at him. “You would have beaten Scott within an inch of his life – not that he didn’t deserve it – before going on to Sabretooth. Wasn’t he in full berserker mode, Kurt?”

Kurt turned his eyes up to the ceiling, then blew out a breath before replying, “Isa is right, _mein freund_. You would have done something you would have regretted if we hadn’t acted as quickly as we did.”

“See?” Isabelle said, taking Logan’s hand into hers. “And that was the last thing I wanted, and the last thing you would want. I made an executive decision, and it turned out to be the right one.”

Logan drew Isabelle to him, holding her tightly. “Thanks for lettin’ us take up space in your common room until we figure some stuff out,” he told Pepper.

“No problem,” Pepper replied, turning on her heel to leave the room. “Tony said to get an apartment ready for you. You might be here awhile.”

Logan’s brows drew together, his lips pressed into a thin line, as though he was processing something. He stroked Isabelle’s hair again. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder, burying her face into his neck. “That’s…that’d be great, Pepper. There’s one thing though: Isabelle’s got a cat…”

“Oh, that’s easy! I can send Darcy Lewis out to get whatever it is you need for the cat! Just have Isabelle email me a list of what she needs, and we’ll make sure it’s there.” Really, where they might keep Isabelle’s cat was the least of their problems. “We’ll talk more when Tony gets back.”

“Sure thing,” Logan nodded.

Pepper turned on her heel to make her way back to her office and check with FRIDAY which apartments were available. As she departed, she could hear Isabelle murmur Logan’s name.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“You need a shower. You stink.”

                                                              ******

Tony had never seen Charles Xavier livid, but there was a first time for everything.

“You’re telling me that you couldn’t wait for a few more hours until I’d returned from Washington?” Charles demanded of Scott Summers.

Scott squared his shoulders, meeting Xavier’s glare levelly. “To be fair, Professor, we had someone who could help us get an idea of what Sabretooth might be up to and we made a decision. It might not be the decision that you would’ve made, but I still wouldn’t do anything differently.”

“Even after all of the times that Sabretooth has threatened not only Logan, but Isabelle? _Especially_ Isabelle?” Xavier demanded, wheeling his chair a little closer toward Scott. “Scott, do you remember what you said to her mother? That Isabelle was like a younger sister to you, and you would do what you could to protect her from any harm. Your promise helped bring her peace during those last days. And you just broke it by not only putting Isabelle, but her unborn child, in danger. All because you couldn’t wait.”

“We needed to know who he was working for,” Scott insisted. “What if he wasn’t here after Logan? What if it was someone else, like one of the students? We didn’t know if he even had other people who might come looking for him if he didn’t come back…”

“It was only a few hours, Scott,” Kitty Pryde replied quietly.

“You could have waited a few hours and not put Isabelle in danger. And Emma, you’d gathered this morning that she suspected she might be pregnant, and you didn’t divulge that information to Scott…” Professor Xavier shook his head.

“Neither did she,” Emma Frost quipped, tossing her blond head and returning the professor’s angry stare with one of her own.

“That doesn’t matter. If she suspected – and you _knew_ that – it was still your responsibility to inform Scott. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He left the ready room, motioning for Tony, Natasha, and Steve to follow him upstairs to his study.

“I can let them crash at the Tower until all of this is straightened out,” Tony offered. “They might have to come here and pack a bag or two, but it’s not a problem. Just until Puss in Boots down there is gone.”

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment before replying. “If you could, until Sabretooth has been removed from the property, that would be best.”

“Removed from the property?” Natasha echoed, her brow knitting. “Professor, are you going to have SHIELD apprehend him?”

“I don’t think it’s going to be SHIELD, Tasha,” Cap murmured. “Remember some of Isabelle’s family at the wedding?”

Natasha glanced back at them. “I remember them, but Sabretooth is someone SHIELD should be handling. If we’re involved…”

Professor Xavier remained silent until they reached his study. Once the door was closed, and once they were seated, he drew a deep breath.

“There are certain things,” he began, “that I cannot divulge to SHIELD. Unfortunately, this is one of them. Sabretooth will be apprehended and removed from the property, I can assure you of that, but I can’t tell you where he’ll be taken or by whom. I can’t even predict what his fate will be.”

Cap caught Tony’s eye with a knowing expression on his face. Charles looked at Cap, then nodded, his eyes twinkling.

“Yes, Captain America, you are right in your estimation. And thank you for keeping it to yourself.”

“No problem. That was a promise I made a long time ago, and I don’t break my promises. Especially to _them_.”

At the mention of the word _them_ Natasha’s eyes narrowed. Tony wondered if it was her or her Black Widow persona who had put two and two together. Regardless of which aspect of her psyche it was, Natasha remained silent.

“Mum’s the word,” Tony said. “As far as we know, you’re keeping Sabretooth here indefinitely. We’ll put that down in our report to SHIELD.”

“Thank you,” Professor Xavier replied. “And now, if you’ll allow me to visit the Tower, I’d like to speak to Logan and Isabelle myself.”

Tony grinned. “Sure, you can come by later today, if you’d like. Just don’t bring Scott and Emma with you. Who knows how Logan will react? The lobby was just redecorated and I really like it this time around.”

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "X-Men" or any other Marvel properties, but all original characters are mine. To be read along with "Change Your Mind, Change Your Life," by the lovely Lost My Marbles.
> 
> Note: My interpretation of Faerie and Fae is not canon at all. I'm borrowing very heavily from Arthurian literature, Spenser's Faerie Queen, the lais of Marie de France, Breton legends and folklore, and a bit from Shakespeare. Isabelle does have some Fae ancestry, and her mutation and her Fae blood feed off of each other, and sometimes not in a good way, especially when she was younger.
> 
> Also I'm going to start posting the prequel to this fic soon, which provides a lot of backstory.

Kaherdin picked up another card, then made a face as he saw it as the Queen of Spades. Each of the other players laid down their other cards, showing their hands. Kaherdin counted out the points, and cursed under his breath as he realized that he had the most of his fellow players.

 

“Another time, friend,” Alberic said, pulling the pool of gold coins toward him and tossing them into his coin purse, one by one. “What game shall it be next time?”

 

“Anything but hearts,” Kaherdin replied, laughing as he sipped from his goblet of wine. He had just arrived at his uncle’s court earlier that day, so that he could take his part in the seasonal drills that the Faerie King’s army ran through to keep their skills sharp in case of attack. The King himself was involved in a game of Risk, a novelty brought by one of Cousin Isabelle’s friends in the World Beyond. Kaherdin knew better than to try and play that game with the King; Hoel of Broceliande was a fierce opponent who took even board games very seriously.

 

Just then, one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting entered the room, her face pale and strained with worry. She scanned the room, and her eyes landed on Kaherdin. Quickly, she made her way to him, curtseying before speaking.

 

“Lord Kaherdin,” she said.

 

“My lady,” he replied. _Etiquette,_ he reminded himself. Hoel of Broceliande was a stickler for etiquette during gatherings at his court. Not like at home, where everything was much more at ease. He stood up, offering the lady his seat, but she shook her head wildly.

 

“The King,” she told him, clasping her trembling hands together. “You must go to the King and alert him…”

 

“Alert him of what?” Kaherdin demanded.

 

The lady burst into tears as she told him: The Queen of Broceliande had had a vision that full-moon night as she had played tune after tune on her harpsichord, a vision of abject fear and horror, and of blood, so much blood. And a lion. A lion who rent the tender flesh of his prey with sharp teeth and claws.

 

“Come,” Kaherdin said quickly, taking her hand and leading her across the expanse of the King’s great hall. The painted ceiling above the changed, suddenly darkening, as though night had set upon them, and one by one, the stars began to appear, filling the room with an eerie light. The crowning achievement, though, was the appearance of the full moon, whose light bathed the chamber in its silvery glow and caught in the many jewels worn by the ladies and gentlemen of the court.

 

The King was absorbed in his game, watching his opponent move. When he heard Kaherdin approach, he glanced up at his nephew, nonplussed.

 

“You have need to speak with me, Sieur Kaherdin?” the King said.

 

Kaherdin sucked in his breath. It was all he could do to keep from rolling his eyes. Cousin Isabelle’s husband Logan would have lost patience with this farce by now. “I don’t have need to speak with you, Seigneur, but the lady does,” he answered.

 

The King eyed the lady-in-waiting insouciantly. “Well, go on, then, Lady…”

 

“Lady Briaca,” she supplied, curtseying. The King held up his hand, bidding her to rise.

 

“Now do tell me your tale, and be quick about it,” he ordered.

 

Tearfully the lady-in-waiting told her tale

 

The King sprung up from his game of Risk with his courtiers and hurried to his wife’s rooms. Kaherdin followed him down the winding corridors toward the Queen’s rooms. As they drew closer to the Queen’s apartments, they could hear the wild tunes she was coaxing out of her harpsichord. She went from “Rondo Alla Turca” to a song by the Beatles to something new by an artist called Bruno Mars, and then back to “Greensleeves.”  She was seated at her harpsichord in her baroque-style music room, a blank stare on her face. The King ran to his wife, taking her hand into his and murmuring gently to her to bring her back to reality. Slowly, the Queen returned to herself, taking her husband’s hand so that he might help her up. He kissed her on the forehead, then turned to his courtiers, his eyes clamping on Kaherdin.

“She says that the vision involves your cousin,” he told Kaherdin. “Where is your sister, so that she might see and tell us how your cousin does?”

 

Kaherdin bowed to his king before answering. “She is back home on our family’s lands, seigneur, but if you wish, I can send for her…”

 

One of the other courtiers pushed his way past the throng that had gathered in the queen’s salon and the corridor outside. The king beckoned him over, and he whispered into the king’s ear. The king’s eyes slid to Kaherdin, and he remarked, “It would seem that your sister has come here instead. Go to her, and when the queen is settled, I shall send for the two of you.”

 

Kaherdin nodded. “Yes, seigneur. I will see to her now.” And he turned on his heel and left the queen’s salon, making his way down the corridor to the set of marble steps that took him to the third floor of the palace, where his suite of rooms was situated.

 

Yseult had already removed her cloak and was pacing the length of the salon, her hands wrapped about a goblet of wine that she sipped now and again to calm her nerves. She kept clicking her fingernails agitatedly against the goblet.

 

“Little sister,” Kaherdin called out softly, and she stopped her pacing, glancing at him with tired dark eyes.

 

“Oh, Kaherdin!” she cried out, putting down her glass and running to him. She threw her arms about his neck, wilting against him. “Kaherdin, we must go immediately to New York. Isabelle…”

 

Their cousin. Yseult and Isabelle both shared the same gift, that of Fae intuition, though Yseult’s was much stronger than Isabelle’s. More than once, Yseult had been able to sense when Isabelle might be in need of their help, and both she and Kaherdin had quickly departed to their cousin’s side when they could. “Is Isabelle all right?” Kaherdin ventured as Yseult disengaged herself from his embrace.

 

Yseult pressed her lips together, twirling one of her silver bracelets about her wrist. “She is _now_. But a short while ago, she wasn’t. Kaherdin.” Isabell stopped, her eyes meeting his. “Kaherdin, one of her own teammates put her in danger. Sabretooth…”

Kaherdin sucked in his breath. The Queen’s vision had been of a lion, mad with bloodlust.

 

And Kaherdin knew all too well whom the lion in the Queen’s vision represented. Too long had Sabretooth breathed the same air as everyone else, only to bring harm to another innocent who didn’t deserve it.

 

“You must go to the King and tell him of what you saw,” he entreated his sister as she went to partake of more wine. “If he knows that your vision matched the Queen’s, then he will do what is right.”

 

Yseult sipped her wine carefully. “Let the Queen rest for awhile,” she said. “Then we will go to the King, so that we might know if the Queen saw the same thing I did.”

 

                                                         ******

 

The King sprang up from his chair, his face contorted in rage. “What was it you saw?” he demanded.

 

Yseult bit her lip nervously as the King began to pace the length of the room. “I saw my cousin being attacked, Seigneur. But not in battle, at the School itself…”

 

“Do you know who it was?” the King pursued, turning on his heel to faced Yseult. “Who was the culprit? He’ll know the consequences of attacking a member of my family…”

 

“It was a mutant, Seigneur.” Yseult paused, and glanced at Kaherdin, who nodded for her to continue. “The mutant is one of her husband’s enemies. So, really, by her association with him, she’s become quarry for this creature…”

 

The King snickered. “And does this creature know that he has made himself an enemy of the King of Broceliande?”

 

Yseult averted her eyes from the King, looking toward her brother. Kaherdin replied for her. “I think not, Seigneur.”

 

The King’s handsome mouth twisted into a cruel frown. “Then won’t it be quite a surprise to him when he discovers that the Fae have a price on his head, and they’ve come to collect on it?”

 

That smile – that smile sent chills down Yseult’s spine. The King was incensed, and his Medici temper had gotten the better of him. Soon, though, the mood would cool, and he would plan carefully, just as his forefather, the Bourbon King Louis XIV, might.

 

He turned to Kaherdin, his face solemn. “I should like to collect his head myself – or see him in chains, or whichever punishment my dear great-great-great-great-grandniece would like to have doled out. Gather the men, Kaherdin. We shall leave for New York City within the hour.”

 

Yseult pressed her lips together, trying to maintain a neutral expression as her eyes met her brothers. Kaherdin bowed before replying to Hoel, “Yes, Seigneur, I’ll gather them so we might leave as soon as possible.” With that he turned on his heel and left the room. Now Yseult was the only one who remained it the King’s company. The King turned away from her, staring into the dying embers of the fire in the fireplace.

 

She took a step closer to him, twisting her hands in her skirts to conceal their trembling. “Seigneur,” she ventured, very softly.

 

The King turned to her, his dark brows raised inquisitively. “Yes, little niece?” he said to her, his face growing soft and his voice gentling.

 

“I believe,” she said, “that my cousin may be with child. If you would allow it, I would like to accompany you, should she need me to see to her.”

The King stared down at her for a moment, his brow furrowing, as though deliberating her proposal. Then the wrinkles in his forehead smoothed, and he clapped her on the shoulder.

 

“You may come with us, little niece,” he said. “Now do hurry. We leave within the hour.”

                                              ******

 

Logan took a shower in one of the guest apartments at Avengers Tower while Isabelle slept off the effects of the sedatives Hank had prescribed for them. When he was done, he pulled out the Avengers-issued t-shirt and sweatpants and got into bed beside her, pulling her closer to him. She mumbled something in French in her sleep, then rolled over toward him, burying her face in his chest. His heart felt heavy as he stroked her hair.

 

So close. He’d come so close to losing her and the baby. If Sabretooth had been able to get out of the cell, or if Isabelle hadn’t been quick enough to act and choke him out, Logan could have lost everything.

 

“Here it comes, and there it goes,” Isabelle had said in the moments before he’d told her he loved her, as though she’d been able to see it in his aura. Like that. Just like that. One moment, there, the other moment, gone.

 

Summers would pay for this. Logan would make sure of that. It would be either Logan or Laura making Scott shake with fear. Logan had done it before, and he’d do it again. It didn’t matter what Isabelle might say, or what Kurt or ‘Ro or even Jean, if she was around, might say. Scott Summers would be a shadow of himself by the time Logan was done with him.

 

_You put my wife in danger. You knew what the risks were, you didn’t want to wait, so you put her in danger._

 

He rubbed his eyes. They felt dry and gritty. He was tired. He was tired of all of it. If he could, right now, he would take Isabelle and leave, hole up in the cabin in Canada, raise the baby there, hide away from the rest of the world.

 

He stroked Isabelle’s hair again, pressing a kiss to her scalp. No, she’d never have that. To Isabelle, that would be running away from their problems. And Isabelle would rather face their problems directly than run from them.

 

He felt her stir against him. She opened her eyes, blinking muzzily before sitting up.

 

“Hey,” he said, watching as she reached for her bottled water and took a few sips. “Feelin’ better?”

 

She screwed the cap back on, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, then placed the bottle back on the bedside table. “A little. The drugs Hank gave me…I’m still a little woozy.” She lay back down beside him, burying her face into her chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the smell of her. Different, it was different this time. Not only Dove soap, faint ozone, and night flowers, but something else, something faint, like a seed that had just been planted in fresh earth. He’d always been able to detect the changes in her hormones during her menstrual cycle by scent. And it was the same with her pregnancy.

 

“You remember anything about what you said to me before Pepper got this apartment ready for us?” he teased. She shook her head, and the top of her hair tickled his nostrils.

 

“No. Did I say something ridiculous?”

 

“You just said I stank.”

 

“You always stink when you get back from a mission, Logan. Especially after a nasty fight. She lifted her head to kiss him on the mouth. “But not anymore.”

 

He laughed, pulling her close to him again. “You’re not gonna turn your nose up if I kiss you?”

 

“You can kiss me all you want.”

 

He bent his head to kiss her, and she returned it just as fervently, as though the events of the last few hours and her brush with death had stoked her passion for him. She yanked the hem of his t-shirt up, tracing the lines of his abdominal muscles with her fingertips.

 

“You missed those?” he asked her.

 

She giggled into the kiss. “I did. Even if you were only gone a short time.”

 

He felt his lungs constrict. “Bells,” he began, but he couldn’t form the rest of the words. _I almost lost you._

 

“Logan,” she whispered.

 

He was sure his aura communicated to her what words couldn’t, not now, not when he’d almost lost her. Not only her, but their baby, the baby they’d created together. The risk they’d both decided to take together, though the world was far from ideal right now…

 

The moment was broken when the intercom beeped. Isabelle let out an irritated huff, then snapped out, “What is it?”

 

It was Pepper. Her voice was a little shaky. “There’s someone here to see you, Isabelle. They say they’re family…”

 

 _Family._ The realization hit Logan like a ton of bricks.

 

“We’ll be right down,” Isabelle said, getting out of bed and going to the mirror to check her appearance.

 

“Is it who I think it is?” Logan asked as he stood up, bending down to put on the flip-flops he’d left here that last time they’d attended one of Tony’s pool parties. She’d teamed up with Bruce Banner and Natasha to play a game of volleyball in the shallow end with Thor, Steve, and Jane, whom Thor had been dating at the time. Namor the Sub-mariner had been present, too, and had watched the game with an expression of delight on his face.

 

“It is,” Isabelle replied, her face slightly pale. “It’s Kaherdin and Yseult…and Uncle Hoel. And Uncle Hoel is not happy, not at all.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own any Marvel properties, but all original characters are mine. To be read in conjunction with the lovely LostMyMarbles’s Change Your Mind, Change Your Life.
> 
> Thanks to all of you who have been following and reading!
> 
> Some general housekeeping:
> 
> I’m pulling from Arthurian legend, French lais, and other folklore to create the Fae. There’s a huge difference between the Fae of Faerie and the fairies of the Otherworld, but as Isabelle would sigh, that’s Edmund Spenser’s fault. 
> 
> Also, if you can guess which old character and horror movie actor I am using to portray the Comte de St. Germain, virtual pain au chocolat to you. Hint: he was in several films with actress Gene Tierney and also published a few cookbooks, and amassed quite an art collection.
> 
> If you’re interested in how things with Logan and Isabelle started, please read the prequel, The Whole of the Moon, which I try to update as often as I can.

Leopold George Ragoczi, the Comte de Saint Germain, had expected to spend a quiet afternoon in one of the studies of the Sanctum Sanctorum on Bleecker Street, reading over the memoirs of that charlatan Cagliostro to try and find proof of where the schemer had hidden his share of Queen Marie Antoinette’s stolen diamond necklace. It was a mere trifle of a task, to be honest, but King Hoel of Broceliande had been seeking to reassemble the piece and present it to his wife, Queen Iolanthe, and he trusted no one but Saint Germain to do it.

He had just poured himself another cup of green tea, delicately flavored with jasmine, when he heard the cautious footsteps of the Ancient One entering the room.

“You could have knocked, you know,” Ragoczi jibed.

The Ancient One offered a quiet laugh, watching Ragoczi as he rose to his full height of just over six feet. “I might on another day,” she retorted, “but I’m afraid there’s something that requires your urgent attention.”

“And what is that?” Ragoczi queried, reaching for his rosewood walking stick. He followed the Ancient One into the corridor and down the stairs to the foyer of the Sanctum, where the King of Broceliande and his great-great-great-grandnephew, Kaherdin, and great-great-great-grandniece, Yseult, were waiting for him. The King was admiring the design of the carvings on the staircase, whereas Kaherdin stood close by, watching his sister Yseult examine the titles of the books on the table closest to her.

“Your Royal Majesty,” Ragoczi said, kneeling down in front of the King, “this is a most an unexpected surprise. And Your Royal Highnesses…” He addressed both Kaherdin and Yseult.

The King looked down at him, then tersely motioned for him to rise. “I haven’t time for formalities, Ragoczi, and we are not at court. There has been an incident with my great-great-great-grandniece Isabelle, and I should like you to take you with me when we attack the blackguard who endangered her life.”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I’ve not heard of such an incident,” Ragoczi said quickly. The Ancient One caught his eye with an intense gaze of her own, nodding her head as though to urge him to question the reason behind the King’s unannounced visit. “And if you’ll please tell me what you mean by _attack_.”

Yseult came quickly to Ragoczi’s side. “You must tell my uncle that he cannot simply ride up to the Avengers Tower with an entire war party behind him! Archers, cavalrymen, infantrymen…”

“Who happen to be very good with pikes and spears and swords,” the King interrupted, straightening to his full height and stopping to examine the fit of his cuirass in the reflection of the mirror close to the staircase.

“The public here isn’t as forgiving as the public in Paris, Uncle,” Kaherdin said. “Remember how they were attacked by a Norse god bent on conquest of all of what he calls Midgard?”

The King laughed. “That Loki! Such a droll fellow! I asked him about that the last time I had him and his brother as guests! He had no wish to speak of it.”

The Ancient One closed her eyes for a few moments in exasperation. Ragoczi turned to Yseult.

“Have you determined that your cousin is safe at the Avengers Tower?” he asked her.

“As much as I could. I used my pendulum. It says she’s safe. She was attacked, Monsieur le Comte. By a most horrid creature…” Her voice trailed off, and she shuddered at the memory of the vision.

“It would be better if I saw,” he told her, holding out his hand.

She nodded in understanding, and she carefully placed her small hand in his so that he might share her vision. It was as grim as he had suspected it might be: a lion tearing apart flesh, a savage laugh.

_The runt put a bun in yer oven, didn’t he?_

Ragoczi’s eyes snapped open. He knew exactly who it was, and apprehension for the young woman who had once been his student filled his heart.

“We shall go to the Avengers Tower – the four of us,” he said, nodding at Yseult, the King, and Kaherdin. “While we’re there, your war party must stay behind, Your Majesty. If we go to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, though, it might just prove to be handy…”

The King tossed a withering glance at Ragoczi, then turned away from the mirror. “Very well, then,” he replied, pulling on his crimson gauntlet gloves, which matched the red trim of his cavalier coat and breeches. “Take us to the blasted Tower, Ragoczi, so that I might see for myself whether or not my niece is safe. And after that, we go to the mansion, where I’ll cut off that creature’s head myself and take it back to Broceliande on a pike!” He slapped Ragoczi on the shoulder. “Won’t it be quite the addition to my trophy room?”

 “Your Majesty,” the Ancient One said, “as King of Broceliande, you may deal out punishment to the fullest extent of your laws, but if you do, I can’t allow you passage through the Sanctum on to Broceliande.”

The King’s eyes narrowed, and he regarded the Ancient One curiously. “Very well, then,” he replied, “though I do not understand why you would allow such a creature to breathe the same air as you do when he has been nothing but a plague to Isabelle’s husband.”

“I would call it a difference of opinion,” the Ancient One said archly, the corners of her lips rising into a slight smile.

The King nodded, frowning. “Maybe so. For diplomacy’s sake, I am bound by your laws, O Ancient One. Be warned, though, that when I take the creature into custody, and after we have passed through this Sanctum, that he will be punished to the fullest extent of Fae law for daring to harm a Princess of the Blood of the kingdom of Broceliande and her unborn child…

“Understood, Your Majesty,” the Ancient One replied, bowing her head slightly. The King bowed in return, then whirled to face Ragoczi.

“Take us to the Avengers Tower,” he ordered, “and be quick about it, man!”

                                                                      ******

Isabelle and Logan made their way to Pepper’s office to see four figures standing there: King Hoel of Broceliande, the Comte de St. Germain, and her cousins Kaherdin and Yseult. The King had been waiting impatiently for them, tapping the foot of his cavalier boots in a strange staccato rhythm on the floor, while Yseult had been pacing the length of the office, wringing her hands in agitation. Kaherdin, as calm as always, was standing at the window admiring the view from Pepper’s office, and Ragoczi – dear Master Leopold – had helped himself to a cup of tea at Pepper’s Keurig machine. He looked up and smiled tenderly when he saw Isabelle. Pepper herself was tucked into a corner of the office, speaking quietly on the phone with Tony.

“Isabelle!” Yseult ran to her, enveloping her into her lavender-scented embrace. Isabelle returned it, surprised at how fiercely her cousin was hugging her. “You’re all right! You have no idea of what I saw, of how worried I’ve been about you…”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Yseult,” Isabelle said, pulling herself out of her cousin’s embrace as the King came to her side. “I – I’m fine. Now.”

“Still,” the King said, his voice growing harsh as his brows drew together into a fierce glare, “the creature who attacked you lives. He must be taken into custody immediately and dealt with. How dare he attack a Princesse du Sang of the House of Broceliande…”

Pepper nearly dropped her mobile phone. “ _What_ did you just say?” she asked Hoel.

Hoel turned to her, giving her a look of annoyance for having _dared_ to interrupt him. “I _said_ ,” he resumed, “that my great-great-great-grandniece is a Princesse du Sang of the Kingdom of Broceliande. That might not mean much in this world, madame, but in my kingdom, it is a very high rank…”

“Princess of the Blood,” Isabelle explained. “And Uncle Hoel, this is Pepper Potts. She’s been very kind to us…”

Hoel cast another look at Pepper again, then sighed, as though he was capitulating. “If she has been kind to you, then she’s a friend to the royal family of Broceliande.” He gave her a charming smile. Pepper, who had gone slightly pale, nodded.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said, getting up, “I’ll leave the six of you to sort out whatever it is…” She hurried out of the room, and Isabelle saw Logan roll his eyes as Pepper passed him. Pepper stifled a giggle as she shut the door behind her.

“She’s really been very helpful,” Ragoczy opined, sitting down on the couch and sipping his tea. He glanced at Isabelle, then patted the seat beside him. “Now come here, my dear girl, and tell us what happened.”

Logan snorted. “What happened? Scott Summers is what happened!”

“Scott Summers?” Hoel said, raising a dark eyebrow. “And what has Scott Summers to do with this foul creature who calls himself your half-brother, Sieur Logan?”

“Perhaps we ought to ask Isabelle,” Kaherdin said. He gestured for the King to sit in the chair close to the couch, while Yseult took the seat beside Isabelle’s, clasping her cousin’s hand into hers. “Tell us what Scott Summers has to do with this.”

“For the record, I wasn’t there,” Logan said, going to stand beside Ragoczi. “I was on a mission with the Avengers. You’ve met ‘em – Cap, Ironman, Black Widow…”

“Captain America?” Hoel said. His demeanor changed, and he laughed, slapping his lap with his gloved hand. “Why, I remember that night long ago, when we happened upon you and – what is it you call him, Cap? – in a little hamlet outside of Rennes cornered by Nazis! And we felled each of those bastards with crossbow bolts alone! Ah, such days those were, to shed blood for the glory of France…”

“Yes,” Ragoczi said, sighing, “such days those were, Majesty. Now, as you were saying, Logan?”

Logan nodded briefly to thank Ragoczi, then continued. “They needed me in Madripoor. So I went. It was a quick mission, in and out. Bells stayed back at the school.”

“I was teaching my English students,” Isabelle said, “when the school went on lockdown. An attack from Sabretooth, and they were able to get him contained. Later that evening I was called downstairs by Scott. Professor Xavier was gone, and the original plan was to wait until he got back to see why Sabretooth was at the school. Scott was impatient, though, and demanded that I read his aura so he could get an idea of what he was dealing with. He had both Rogue and Piotr Rasputin come with me, for protection.” Isabelle shuddered, and Yseult squeezed her hand. Logan moved closer toward her, going to sit at her feet, taking her other hand. His face tightened, and his aura shifted to show a dark red tinge.

Ragoczi took another sip of his tea as he processed what Isabelle had just told him. “Did Ms. Emma Frost happen to have anything to do with this decision?” he asked her.

“I don’t know,” Isabelle admitted. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she did. Scott has really changed since Jean died. Jean… kept him from getting too carried away. Emma Frost…”

Ragoczi harrumphed. “You know my sentiments about the White Queen, Isabelle, based on my past dealings with her. I wouldn’t doubt that she encouraged him in this little flight of fancy.”

“Nothin’ surprises me when it comes to Frost,” Logan muttered.

“What else happened?” Kaherdin queried. Isabelle looked up at him. 

“There’s really nothing else to tell. I tried to read him, he started up on his usual bullshit, and then he said…” Isabelle swallowed. “He said he could smell the baby. That he was going to kill me and the baby. He tried to break out of the cell he was being held in. I panicked, I didn’t know what else to do. So I choked him out, and hid in the ductwork until Hank McCoy coaxed me out.”

The King sprang up from his chair. “This… this is insupportable!” he spluttered, his face contorted in rage. “He shall pay, too! I’ll have Scott Summers’s head on a pike before this day is out!”

Isabelle gasped. “Uncle, no!” she exclaimed. “You mustn’t do such a thing! Master Leopold, tell him!” she implored Ragozci.

Ragozci set aside his now-empty mug of tea, rising to his full height. “Your Majesty, your niece has expressed some concern about this proposed punishment,” he said. He placed his hand on her shoulder for a moment before going to the King’s side. Isabelle nudged at Logan with her foot.

“Tell him,” she hissed. “Sabretooth is _your_ enemy. And Scott is our teammate, even if he does act like a pompous ass half the time.”

Logan grimaced, then got to his feet. “Your Majesty,” he said, “I got something to say about this…”

Hoel cocked his head, eying him witheringly. “And what have you to say, Sieur Logan?”

Logan glanced back at her, but Isabelle waved her hand to urge him onward. He faced the King again.

“Two things, really,” he said. “First, Isabelle and I… don’t like the idea of you killin’ our teammate. Yeah, he screwed up, but no one really got hurt. Luckily.”

“Luckily, indeed!” the King sniffed.

“We’ve all made poor choices, Your Majesty,” Ragozci added. “Scott Summers is one of the most effective leaders I have encountered in all of the years of my existence. He had to make a decision quickly, with the information available to him at the time. Unfortunately, he chose unwisely. But that doesn’t mean he should pay with it for his life.”

“No,” the King said, fussing with one of the golden tassels of his coat, “I suppose not. What is the second thing you wish to say, Sieur Logan?”

Logan looked back at Isabelle again. She rose from her place on the couch, coming to his side and threading her fingers through his.

“Let Isabelle take the floor,” he said.

Hoel’s steely gray-blue gaze met hers. “And what have you to say about the matter, niece?”

“I’m more concerned about Sabretooth himself and the danger he poses not only to Logan and me, but to other people. He shouldn’t be allowed to breathe the same air as we do,” she said.

“And how do you propose we handle this wretched creature?” the King prompted.

“If I could approach you, so that I can whisper it to you,” Isabelle said.

“You may, dear niece.” He held out his hand to her, and Isabelle went to him, taking his hand into hers.

“The Queen of Ys might have a solution, one that doesn’t involve the spilling of blood.” And Isabelle rose to the balls of her feet to whisper it into the King’s ear.

“Ah!” the King exclaimed once she had made her case. “That _is_ an _excellent_ punishment. I couldn’t have come up with a better one myself. Very well then, I shall have to speak to your Professor Xavier – or _Ragozci_ will have to – but I’m sure he will be amenable to what you propose.” The King smirked as he said this, and his eyes shone with an eerily gleeful light.

“He will be,” Isabelle replied. She came to Logan’s side again, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

“Consider the matter of Scott Summers and Emma Frost to be resolved as well,” the King said, his nose turning up at the mention of their names. “But let them know that the King of Broceliande is not inclined to be merciful when it comes to his family. We do not forgive, and we do not forget, trespasses made against us. Unless they were to beg for it, and believe me, they must _beg_.”

“Beg?” someone echoed from the doorway of Pepper’s office.

And Isabelle turned to see Tony Stark entering Pepper’s office, with a wide grin on his face. He stopped beside Logan and Isabelle. “So, Bells,” he said, “when were you going to introduce me to this crazy family of yours?”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "X-Men," "Avengers," or any other Marvel properties, but all original characters are mine. To be read in conjunction with "Change Your Mind, Change Your Life," by the lovely LostMyMarbles. 
> 
> And I do apologize for being remiss in updating this work, along with The Whole of the Moon and Pretty Little Things. Real-life things have kind of gotten in the way of working on both original works and fanfic.

“My crazy family?” Isabelle echoed, disengaging herself from Tony’s arm and giving him a cross look. “My family may certainly be _different,_ but not crazy…”

“Just _what_ do you mean by crazy, young man?” Hoel demanded, striding up to Tony and thrusting his hands on his hips. “I’ll have you know that I’ve sat on the throne of Broceliande longer than you’ve breathed air, so if you think…”

“It’s a joke, Your Majesty.” Steve Rogers entered the room with an astonished Natasha behind him. Hoel’s eyes brightened with recognition.

“Why, mon capitain! It’s an honor!” He strode up to Steve, holding out his hand. Tony frowned. Steve took Hoel’s hand, shaking it.

“Good to see you again, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice quiet as he bowed his head in what appeared to be reverence to the King.

Hoel smiled at him. “I wish it was under better circumstances, though. Tell me, who’s your friend here? He’s most insolent…”  


“Insolent?” Tony said. “You barge into my building wanting to cut off this and that person’s head and you call _me_ insolent?”

Hoel glanced at Steve, then at Logan. “Is this true, Chevalier of the Pays Lointain?” he asked Logan, whi nodded briefly.

“It’s true,” Logan said. Isabelle glowered at Tony.  “No way he coulda known, though. Nothin’ to worry about. He’s a friend.”

“A friend? _Oh._ Well, then.” The King sniffed, straightening. “Niece, will you be so kind as to introduce us?”

Isabelle nodded. “Uncle Hoel, this is Tony Stark. He’s one of our… friends. Tony, this is my great-great-great-granduncle, King Hoel of Broceliande…”

Tony glanced at Pepper, who had sidled in behind him. “Fae?” he said. “So you’re a Fae king?”

“Indeed he is, young man,” came the smooth voice from behind Tony. Tony knew that tone.

“St. Germain,” Tony said, turning to acknowledge him. “You, too?”

 

“I came as a precaution. The King was in quite the mood before he set foot in your humble abode. But now he seems sufficiently settled.” He jerked his head toward Hoel, who had wandered into the hallway to find Thor. The Asgardian had come down to see what all of the commotion was about. The two men embraced, grinning, and made their way down the hallway toward one of the conference rooms, arm in arm.

 

“Well, _that_ doesn’t happen every day,” Pepper murmured. “I learned something about Isabelle I didn’t know before.”

 

“What didn’t you know?” Tony replied as he motioned for Isabelle and the Comte de St. Germain and the two others with them – a quiet, dark-haired woman and a watchful young man with smooth brown hair almost the same color as Isabelle’s – out of the room. Kurt Wagner bamfed into the hallway, then fell into step as Isabelle led the new guests to the conference room. “Go on,” Tony said to Pepper. “I’ll be right behind you.”

 

He waited for Logan, who kept his face impassive. After a tense silence, Logan made a small growling noise and said, “Okay, Stark, you got questions. Shoot.”

 

“So you’re a knight in the Fae court? I mean, I knew Bells had some pull there, but…” Tony’s voice trailed off.

 

“It was so we could get married. And it ain’t like Bells is flauntin’ her title around. I was a little weirded out by it, too. Know what she said? ‘It’s the custom of the castle, Logan.’”

 

“That sounds like Bells,” Tony said, laughing. “But Nick Fury does’t know, does he?” Logan remained quiet. “Does Charles Xavier know? Well, what kind of question is that? Of course he knows…”

 

“Fae ain’t subject to the same laws we are,” Logan said. “Fury knows that. That’s why he lets ‘em do what they need to do. He just don’t want ‘em to hurt nobody.”

 

“Hm.” Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You got knighted so you could marry Bells, huh?” he said again.

 

Logan made a face. “It’s complicated. The title coulda been worse, though.”

 

“How bad?”

 

“There’s the Knight of the Millefeuilles. That’s a dessert.”

 

Tony grimaced. “That’s – that’s bad. I’ll make sure not to make too much of an impression on this King, then.”

 

“Don’t. Because if you do, you’ll never live it down.”

 

                                                       ******  
  
“So which is he, again?” Ragoczi asked Isabelle.

 

“Sabretooth. Victor Creed. You know the name, Maestro.”

 

“I’d only like to be sure of whom we’re dealing with,” Ragoczi said quietly, linking his arm through Isabelle’s as they sauntered to the conference room.

 

“Queen Anneliese has often said she’ll take care of him for us,” Isabelle said. “I think I’m going to have her do it this time.”

 

Ragoczi harrumphed. “You should have taken her up on her offer in the first place, my dearest Isabeau,” he said, using the pet name he had bestowed upon her while she had been under his tutelage on Muir Island. “That foul creature has wandered this earth doing as it pleases for far too long.”

 

Isabelle sighed, closing her eyes and counting a few beats before responding. “Professor Xavier would never have allowed it,” she said. “Not until now.”

 

“Not until now,” Ragoczi repeated. “And you’re to be a mother! This creature mustn’t be allowed to threaten you in such a way again! Fae law prevails when a Fae is threatened. Professor Xavier understands this all too well.”

 

“Master Leopold, I thought you were more of a humanitarian,” Isabelle said.

 

“Once I may have been,” Ragoczi replied, “but this is one time that my normal philosophy merits an exception. My darling girl, had he succeeded… I can’t imagine…” He squeezed her hand.

 

“Please don’t even try to,” she said, watching the shifting colors of his aura. “Logan isn’t letting a lot on, but I think it affected him, Maestro. A lot.”

 

“Old wounds?” Ragoczi said.

 

Isabelle nodded.

 

Ragoczi shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. For a man of such nobility, he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. So many burdens, so many cares, so many worries…”

 

“I can get him talking about it. Eventually. Just not now,” she said, casting a glance back at Logan. “When we’re alone.” When Logan would feel comfortable opening up.

 

 _You’ve taken care of and protected everyone else for too long, choupinet. Let me do that for you. Relationships should always be reciprocal._ She saw his aura shift from a red and green to a pink when their eyes met, but the dirty gray overlay betrayed everything.

 

“I hope that your teacher is joining us, too,” Ragoczi said. “Mr. Summers and Ms. Frost aren’t here, I see; they would do best to keep out of the King’s sight. And I do hope that Mr. Summers regrets what he has done, now that he sees what a fine mess he’s made. I daresay he would have been much more rational were Miss Grey still here. A pity the Phoenix Force swallowed her whole, and couldn’t leave her well enough alone like it did the Damoiselle d’Orleans.”

 

“Maestro,” Isabelle replied, “not everyone knows about the Damoiselle. It might be best to keep it quiet.”

 

“True,” Ragoczi said, heaving a deep sigh. He let go of Isabelle’s hand, moving ahead of them so that he might speak with the King.   


Isabelle waited for Logan to catch up with her, her feet feeling light for a moment as she walked toward him. Her hair fluttered in a bit of a breeze, the molecules of her body screaming to split into a gas form, but as soon as Logan took her hand, she felt steady, grounded.

 

“You okay?” he asked her, his blue eyes boring into hers. She nodded.

 

“I’m fine,” she began, but then the sadness stabbed through her like a knife through the heart. Logan’s aura shifted again, blue overtaking red and pink, gray shooting through all of it.

 

Scott had done more than endangered her. He had opened the scars to wounds that Logan had thought long healed. He’d brought everything bubbling back to the surface, all at once.

 

 _Itsu and the baby. Silver Fox. Mariko._ At least three of the women Logan had loved and lost to murder. And Isabelle had been so sure that it wouldn’t happen with her, because she was made of stronger stuff.

_Being a Faerie princess counts for something, doesn’t it, choupinet?_

Being a Faerie princess didn’t count for shit when it came to Sabretooth. It hadn’t protected her, because he couldn’t care less about Fae law. All he’d wanted to do was kill her, visit the worst violence possible upon her, all to make Logan suffer.

 

“How about you?” she asked him, taking the moment to wrap her arms around him and bury her face into his neck. He kissed her on the temple as he pulled her closer to him.

 

“I’ll be okay,” he said.

 

“Logan. Don’t lie. You don’t have to lie just to make me feel better. You can tell me…” She craned her neck so that she could gaze up at him.

 

He cupped her face in his hand, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. “I said I’ll be okay,” he insisted. “We’ll talk about it later.”

 

“I’m holding you to that,” she warned him. “You’re not going to get away with bottling it up and not talking about it.”

 

“I know.” He offered her a wan smile, brushing strand of hair out of her face. “When this is all over with, let’s go up to the cabin for a week or two. Just you and me. It’ll be good to get away. And figure out what to do.”

 

 _Figure out what to do._ They already knew what they wanted to do. The EU had always been much more accepting of mutants than the United States had, and Isabelle and Logan both agreed that they wanted to raise any children they had in a world without fear. France had been the most obvious answer. They could live on her mother’s family’s estate and raise the baby there. A safe and carefree childhood, just as Isabelle remembered her summer holidays in France with her mother. And St.-Tremeur-sur-Mer was close to the Fae kingdom of Broceliande. And Laura and Jubilee would go with them; there was no question when it came to that. They were family, and they wouldn’t be left behind.

 

“The cabin sounds heavenly,” she said. He dipped his head to kiss her, and what a kiss it was, the sort of kiss that made her giddy and left her wanting more. Yes, going to Alberta for a few weeks would be perfect. The place that had once been just his was now hers, too, a refuge from life spent fighting for Charles Xavier’s dream.

 

“You two done over there?” Isabelle heard Cap ask. He was leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, watching them with an amused expression on his face. “You’re keeping the King waiting. And he’s not happy about it.”

 

“Oh, he won’t stay angry with me for long,” Isabelle retorted, taking Logan’s hand and leading him toward the conference room.

 

“Professor Xavier is on his way,” Cap went on as they entered the conference room. “He’s bringing Shadowcat, Jubilee, and Laura with him…”

 

“No Summers and Frost?” Logan said, snickering. Of course the professor wouldn’t bring him, not with King Hoel screaming for their blood and threatening to cut off Scott’s head and place it on the wall of his trophy room.

 

“You sound almost disappointed,” Cap remarked, a corner of his mouth lifting in a grin.

 

“Just a little,” Logan replied. “I woulda loved to see Summers shit his pants just once.”

 

“You might get your wish,” Isabelle said to him as they stopped in front of the doors of the conference room. Drawing a deep breath, she placed her hand on it. “Shall we?” she said to Logan.

 

Logan jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s get this over with,” he replied.

 

With a deep inhale, Isabelle opened the conference room door.

 

 

 

 

  


  
  


 


End file.
